Doing It Right
by Creedog VanDrey
Summary: Santana goes back in time to fix her relationship with Brittany, and ends up rewriting her entire junior year. Volume 1 complete; Volume 2 in progress.
1. New Agey Stuff

Doing It Right: Chapter 1  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee_  
Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was not one to believe in New Age-y stuff, but when given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes, she can't help but take it.  
Spoilers: 2x04 "Duets" – 2x15 "Sexy"

A/N: I wouldn't be doing this series if I hadn't already had the whole damn thing mapped out.

Also, I haven't posted anything in months. I blame the writers who I'm betaing for. **tjmack** is writing an awesome _Chuck_ series called _Who Let the Rain In?_ and making me jealous by growing her writing prowess by leaps and bounds that I could only dream of. And **lets_duet** drags me into her depraved world of _Glee_ erotica. So, if this fic gets a little bit naughty, you know who's corrupted me.

**Update:** I've been getting a lot of comments by whiny reviewers in some of the later chapters, so I thought I'd warn all newcomers. I'd like to point out that this series is expected to have 20 or so chapters, and probably in the ballpark of 100,000 words. It is a novel. It is about Brittany and Santana, but I will introduce many secondary plotlines about the other characters. If you are expecting nothing but fluff from a series of this size, from a writer of ten years, then frankly you are an idiot. This is a mix of comedy and drama and angst and romance. If you're looking for something quick and fuzzy, there is so much more on this site for you other than this one story. I have spent many hours crafting this story and I am very proud of it, so I invite you read it, knowing you'll need just a little bit of patience and diligence. I have done my best to make the journey worth it.

* * *

Chapter 1: New Age-y Stuff

Santana was not one to believe in New Age-y stuff like this, but she was in pain, in desperation. The words still echoed in her mind: _Of course I love you. I do. And I'd totally be with you if it weren't for Artie. I love him, too. I don't want to hurt him. That's not right. I can't break up with him. _

_I'm sorry. _

She'd talked to Ms. Holliday after it happened. She didn't even remember going to see her, but she suddenly found herself bawling with her head pressed into the woman's shoulder. It was the substitute teacher who suggested this unconventional procedure. Santana didn't know how it could possibly fix her issues; it was psuedoscience wrapped in science fiction. But Ms. Holliday promised she'd be there the entire time, so Santana felt oddly safe.

The office looked much like other professional offices: wood paneling, a large desk, several comfy armchairs, and a chaise longue that Santana was now lying on.

"Close your eyes," the doctor instructed, "Now I want you to imagine that moment when you believe you caused the unfortunate series of events. The moment that you think could help you set things right."

In her mind, Santana was now in Brittany's room. She saw two female figures lying on a bed together, wearing familiar red uniforms.

The doctor's voice filtered in: "If you're looking at yourself, you're not there yet. _Be_ there. Be _you_."

In a flash, Santana found herself lying on top of Brittany, kissing her lips and neck. But something wasn't right; she was still too detached, too inert.

"_You should be in your body now. You'll feel paralyzed at first. It will take a minute to take control of your body."_

Santana was terrified. It was like being frozen; worse, it was like being _nothing_. She could see; she could hear; but she couldn't _feel_. Not her arms or legs or the warmth of Brittany's skin or the coolness of the air or even gravity holding her in place. She couldn't reach out or shake or scream or breathe.

"Listen, there's a lot of talking going on, and I wants to be my mack on," Santana heard her voice saying, like poison. Anger boiled in her; she was supposed to be _fixing_ things, but she was trapped in a body she couldn't control. A body that just lied to the girl she loved. A body that was now sitting up, putting its back to the blonde, cutting her off, and crushing her delicate heart in a way that Santana could easily imagine, since it was happening to her, too.

The distant command was almost imperceptible: _"Don't fight it. If you fight it, it'll just take longer to settle in."_

Finally, a tingling sensation invaded Santana's arms and she could finally _feel_ things: the fabric of her Cheerio skirt on her hips, Brittany's comforter on her thighs, the strands of her weave in her hands, which were collecting the hair into a ponytail.

Brittany's voice, not even hiding her disappointment, asked, "Who are you going to sing a duet with?"

Not fully paying attention to the voice that her ears couldn't escape, Santana experimentally tried to relax her hands. Her hair fell around her.

"Santana?"

_Now or never_. Santana wished she had more of a plan. Fully in control of her body, she rolled over, resting on her elbows and deliberately locked her eyes with Brittany's. It would be easy just to tell her best friend her feelings. For Santana, it was only a day ago that she'd poured her heart out to the same crystalline blue eyes. All the words were there, at the tip of her tongue. But Brittany was looking up at her, expecting something, expecting anything, expecting everything. Three little words: _I love_…

"…you," Santana said.

A smile magically appeared and Santana's heart clenched. "Yay! What duet are we going to do? If you don't like 'Come to My Window'?"

"Something hot," was the answer, "something that will win us that date at Breadstix." Santana lowered her mouth onto Brittany's, wondering if the blonde had caught her slip-up about a "date."

_I've only got one shot for this. I tell her those three little words and I don't hear them back? It'll break me and it'll break me out of this projection and then all hope is lost, for a while. So, it's settled: get Brittany to utter those words first—I know how she feels—and then I say them back, and we're home free. I get the girl. _

* * *

A/N: It's very frustrating for a fanfic writer to have a really cool plot bunny that when distilled is nothing more than three things readers can already find in abundance: (1) a fix fic, (2) a post-"Sexy" Brittana story, and (3) an Alternate Timeline fic. Readers, keep me on track. The only way to redeem this story is to do it right. Make sure I do, okay?


	2. Regret Nothing

Doing It Right: Chapter 2  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee_  
Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes, so she can't help but take it. Step 1 is to do a super-hot duet with Brittany.  
Spoilers: 2x04 "Duets" – 2x15 "Sexy"

A/N: This is starting out a little slow, so do me a favor and think of the previous chapter as more of a prologue. Luckily, when I don't know what I'm doing at the start, it usually leads to something really cool.

* * *

Chapter 2: Regret Nothing 

It seemed like only a breath later and Santana was sitting in the choir room at school. The doctor had mentioned she might lose time. Her experience in the past would pass like a dream; unimportant things would fly by in the blink of an eye. Making out with Brittany—and more?—seemed pretty damn important.

But was more important was finding her best friend by her side, their pinkies linked, the girl bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

Something caught her eye: near the door to the choir room, Tina was talking to Artie. This seemed vaguely familiar. Over the din of her glee mates talking, she caught the gist of Tina's conversation with Artie: she was asking him to be her partner for the duet assignment. Artie was nodding and grinning. Santana's head twisted to where Mike was sitting, on the back row, looking forlorn at the same development.

The facts came together: _Brittany's my partner. That means she's not Artie's partner. That means if Asian of the Night were to ask Artie, he wouldn't say no. He still wants all up in her yin-yang. _

_Tina's asking. He's not saying no. _

The last thing Santana needed was to play Butterfly Effect, so while the change of events was a little ominous, she needed to focus on keeping Brittany and Artie apart.

Mr. Schuester got up and, cheerily as always, announced that Santana and Brittany had volunteered to go first. Santana wasn't sure how to react to that. She and Mercedes _had _gone first before, but at least in that timeline, she'd known and practiced what song she had signed up to sing. Would they be doing "River Deep, Mountain High"? It didn't seem likely. Brittany could rock a mean Britney Spears, but her voice was not well-suited to power belters like Ike and Tina Turner. It was too late to stall; Brittany was dragging her down toward the floor and frowning at her reluctance. Santana put on a fake smile that she knew Brittany would see through, but hoped to pass off as nervousness.

When the band started playing the song's introduction, an almost classical arrangement of violins and cello, Santana's anxiety lessened considerably. It was one of Brittany's favorite songs, something that Santana had been forced to listen to hundreds of times over the past couple of years. Her anxiety returned when the implications of the song hit her.

Her anxiety jumped through the roof when, offset by a heavy beat on the drum set, Brittany strutted two steps forward and unzipped the back of her Cheerios skirt in front of the entire club. The fabric collected on the ground, and Santana released a sigh of relief, seeing that Brittany was wearing a tight black miniskirt underneath. Four measures later, her Cheerios top was similarly discarded, revealing a black blouse with quarter-length sleeves and a lacy (and distracting) square neckline. Releasing her hair was the final stage of her costume change, which after two shakes of her head was perfectly set, a trick only Brittany could do.

She looked back expectantly, and Santana took a leap of faith. Her eyes scanned her audience, whose eyes were all expectantly wide. She brought out her bedroom eyes; it was second nature to her. She took two deliberate steps forward, unzipping the back of her skirt as she advanced, kicking the skirt back with her foot without pause. No one fainted, so she assumed the fabric she still felt around her hips was a miniskirt and not some sort of undergarment. She peeled her top of with similar mystique, catching an eyeful of a black keyhole-button tank. She let her hair down, attempting to tease with two hair tosses, like Brittany. No doubt she was less successful than Brittany and ended up with sex hair. _Probably for the best_, she thought. At that moment, Santana realized that the choreography up to this point was probably _her_ idea. Brittany's arm was held out by her side, her fingers splayed welcomingly. Santana took the hand, recognizing the callback to the music video.

Brittany started, talking more than singing: "_I go—_"

Santana instantly took over, "_Ooh ooh, you go_—"

"_Ah ah_," Brittany breathily finished the tricky first lines.

They continued together, switching off occasionally, but Brittany taking the lead with the majority of the sing-talking:

_La la la la la la la la  
I can't lie lie lie lie lie lie  
I wanna wanna wanna get get get what I want  
Don't stop  
Give me give me give me what you got got  
Cause I can't wait wait wait any more more more more  
Don't even talk about the consequence  
Cause right now you're the only thing that's making any sense to me  
And I don't give a damn what they say, what they think think  
Cause you're the only one who's on my mind  
I'll never ever let you leave me  
I'll try to stop time for ever, never wanna hear you say goodbye (bye bye bye)_

Up until then, they mostly sway in tempo, but as Santana came in strong for the more musical chorus, Brittany backed down her vocals and amped up her dancing:

_I feel so untouched  
And I want you so much  
That I just can't resist you  
It's not enough to say that I miss you  
I feel so untouched right now  
Need you so much somehow  
I can't forget you  
Been going crazy from the moment I met you_

Santana danced in place with greater energy, but Brittany absolutely bounced around her, leaning in intimately close during the harmonizing portions. Another musical interlude came up, and Brittany started to slither around Santana, who played her part well, dragging her hands through Brittany's hair and shifting away flirtatiously. True to the song, they didn't touch much more than a ghost of a hand across one's arm or brief fingering through the other's hair.

Brittany took center stage again for the second verse. The vocals were more equally shared, so Santana kept her voice strong, putting a lot more purring in the song that did the original singers. While she sang, Brittany did a more complicated routine: a mix of spins and struts that Santana prayed she wasn't meant to be mirroring. Instead she played off Brittany the best she could, masterfully if she did say so herself. If she wasn't meant to improvise, Brittany was adapting well to her ignorance of the moves.

The chorus came up again and Brittany really powered through it, matching Santana's volume throughout. Brittany grabbed Santana's hand a line in and tightly held it. The Latina became worried about how long Brittany intended to squeeze her hand as the chorus closed, but it was all part of the plan it seemed, as Brittany dragged her forward until they were a step away from the front row where Artie, Tina, Berry, and Finn sat. When Brittany turned out, dropping Santana's hand and walking away, Santana did the same. They repeated the chorus while walking up the risers and singing in the faces of their classmates, slowly making their way up and down, and finally toward each other.

_Been crazy from the moment I touched you_

Brittany extended her hand and Santana did the same, their fingers an inch apart. To the other, and no one else, they chanted:

_Untouched… untouched… untouched_

The cello belted out the familiar introduction as they remained eying each other.

The room was dead silent. Mr. Schue looked like he may have suffered an aneurysm from where he was sitting at the piano bench. Artie broke the silence by hooting and hollering, and soon the boys joined in, followed by the girls, who provided more applause than cheering. Finn's enthusiastic whooping died down a lot off a nasty glance from Rachel, who clapped politely while utterly failing to look sportsmanlike. Santana noticed that one person had considerably less enthusiasm: Kurt was doing a private slow clap, watching them with a pensive and perhaps knowing look.

"Wow, ladies," Mr. Schue finally said, clearing his throat, "that was certainly… passionate. The vocals and choreography were exceptional. The theatricals might have been a little much."

Santana shrugged and the pair made their way to the front of the room to collect their discarded uniforms. Santana briefly considered apologizing for the overt subtextual homoeroticism and striptease motif, but realized she wasn't the type of person who apologized for that sort of thing.

_Plus_, she reasoned, _if Finn and Rachel plan to do a romantic duet dressed like a priest and a nun, there's no reason why Brittany and I singing a song by a couple of sisters who act like they're into each other is somehow __**worse**__. We might have even saved their asses from losing the competition by doing something more inappropriate. _Santana frowned at the premise of helping out Finn and Berry, even unintentionally.

After returning to their seats, Mike leaned over, across Santana's lap, not touching it—he was smart enough for that, at least—and congratulated Brittany. When he pulled back, he amended his praise to Santana, too, but the undertones of his actions were obvious. Santana was ready to tear out his spiky Asian, anime-esque hair when the boy hazarded a glance toward the front row, where Tina was looking up at the exchange. Santana's anger dissipated immediately, at Mike at least. She sent him a patented Santana glare, not even her best work, and it was enough to get the boy back in his seat.

It seemed that this duet competition was going to be ripe with jealousy scams no matter what, so Santana realized she had no choice to put her expert scheming skills to work. It almost seemed like more work than it was worth, but all it took was the feel of Brittany sliding her pinky into Santana's to really that _nothing_ was more work that it was worth when it came to her current assignment.

Her eyes scanned the room while the gears turned in her brain. She need a plan, nothing too complex; no elaborate games of chess, or even checkers; no, this was going to be a simple game of three-card Monte: getting her what she wanted directly and efficiently. She had her mark: Tina; her target: Mike; her decoy: Artie; and now she just need her shill. And there she was.

Schuester was giving his closing remarks, his usual mixture of abject praise and fatherly pearls of wisdom. Santana leaned over, pulling Brittany in, whispering into her ear, making sure to tickle the blonde with little puffs of air to elicit giggles. "So, sexy lady, I think we rocked the house. We'll celebrate at Breadstix when we win, of course, but I see no reason to wait. You wanna dust off your _Sailor Moon _box set and have a sleepover in my basement tonight?" Brittany nodded vigorously at the suggestion. "Okay, then, be at my house at 9 PM sharp. Look, I gotta go talk to somebody, but I'll meet you at my car in ten, okay?"

"'Kay."

Santana reluctantly unhooked her pinky and raced to catch up with her selected pawn. "Hey, Mercedes, hold up…"

* * *

A/N: You know what I hate? Fanfiction writers who are unsecure about their work. People who tell you how much they suck at writing summaries _in their summaries_. I skip any story where I see that. And the cutesy "R&R!" thingie that sneaks in there? Total turnoff.

That being said, I'm really insecure about my song pick. I don't listen to a lot of popular music, so I had to do a lot of research. I thought the Veronicas' "Untouched" was a decent selection according to my criteria: female/female duet, high energy, sexual undertones, provocative, one part that would not strain Heather's vocal capabilities, and one part that would not underutilize Naya's vocal talent. Honestly, there's probably no perfect fit for what I wanted, but I would have preferred something that would have been more competitive in the duet contest. So, if there's anyone out there who'd like to assist me in future song selections, I'd be happy to contract you out. Perks will by necessity include spoilers of future chapters.


	3. A Game of Three Card Monte

Doing It Right: Chapter 3  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. She sees that things can get messy real fast when it comes to rewriting history and it's time to nip things in the bud.  
Spoilers: 2x04 "Duets" – 2x15 "Sexy"

A/N: You know what I hate? That I've been ranting in these author's notes.

You know what else I hate? When fanfiction writers completely ignore character to focus on their ship. So, are you guys ready for Santana/Brittany 24/7? Well, tough cookies then, 'cause while they are the main focus of this story, and will get plenty of time devoted to them, I'm not about to ignore the other dozen great characters I have at my disposal. I may sideline the adults more, though, so if you think I'm missing great opportunities to showcase them, let me know. Nothing's set in stone yet.

* * *

Chapter 3: A Game of Three-Card Monte

Santana took it as a good sign that her mind didn't jump forward in time again as she chased Mercedes out the door. "Hey, Mercedes, hold up." Mercedes gave Santana a once-over. "So, Wheezy, who are you pairing up with for the competition?"

Mercedes didn't answer immediately; she just appraised Santana as if she were a rattlesnake that was coiled and ready to strike. "I don't know yet. There's a lot of male/female duets. But everyone's still exchanging partners like a 1960s key party. Artie would've been my first choice, but Tina…" The black girl frowned and hummed disapprovingly instead of finishing, which Santana considered a mutual assessment. "My boy Kurt's putting the moves on Sam, which also concerns me, but SoCal seems open to singing together at least, so not borrowing trouble. I suspect I'll pair up with Quinn. She and I kind of drifted apart over the summer, and this might be a good opportunity for us to reconnect."

Santana knew she should feel bad for taking away the chance for the two to salvage their friendship, but she was on a mission and let the chips fall where they may, right? She pointed out, "You and Mother Superior's voices aren't well-suited for each other, though."

"Yeah, but plenty of white girls and black girls have sung songs together. We'll just do some research."

"Why not Mike? He's a guy."

"Because he's _Tina's_ guy and they're going through a rough patch, and I don't want it to look like I'm going after her man. Plus, he's afraid to sing in public. That's why he and Tina are fighting. "

"Look, it takes people some time to get comfortable singing solos. Heck, I knew my voice was awesome and I still waited a few months before I was ready to step into the limelight. With you, I seem to recall. And we rocked it." She extended her fist, which Mercedes bumped. The black girl turned it into a firework, which was something Santana had seen her and Quinn do, so she didn't copy. "And it was only a couple of weeks ago that Brittany's Pop Princess hallucinations gave her the courage. All I'm sayin' is, you help Mike get his C-sharp legs, have him singing a little somethin'-somethin' to Tina in class, and it might help them get through their Asian land war. And who's the hero? 'Cedes the Jonester. And if he's not ready to sing, maybe the boy's got a little bit o' rapper in him. Plenty of R&B divas have done some bitchin' duets with male rappers. Just an idea."

"I suppose you got a point, chica."

Santana scoffed. "Of course I do."

"Can I ask why you care so much about Tina and Mike's relationship?"

"I don't," Santana covered. Mercedes looked unconvinced. "Look, I've got my issues with Artie, but Tina's cool except for the fact she's not _cool_. Also, she and B are friends and Brittany likes to see people happy."

"And you like to see her happy."

"No duh. I just got a room of losers questioning my sexuality 'cause B's _still_ sad that we never did a ballad together a _year_ ago. I'm a bitch, but it doesn't mean I don't have a heart for my bestie."

"Gotta say, you ladies were pretty uncensored in there. You think it'll win that dinner at Breadstix?"

Santana had her doubts, but there was no reason _not_ to shake up her competition. "Hell yeah we will. We know what buttons to push. For some 'sticks, I ain't doing nothing halfway, and Brittany, well, I've seen her look at a bowl of spaghetti with more lust in her eyes than when she looks at…" Santana froze, finished, "…certain people … hot guys."

"Frankly, I don't see the appeal of the place."

"Then there's something wrong with you, Hammy. Those things are like Heaven in something conveniently phallic. But, let's say you and Chang win—which you won't—maybe you ought to let Mike take Tina, since you don't dig the 'Stix. Oregano is a major aphrodisiac, let me tell you." She winked.

"Gross. Well, I've got to go catch a Chinese pop-and-locker. Fist-bump?" She extended her fist.

"Yeah, right." Santana rolled eyes and made a quick exit.

: : :

Santana was lying on her bed, propped up against the headrest with pillows, Brittany tucked under chin, her arms wrapped around Santana's torso, and Santana's arms looped over her shoulders. She was very close to dozing off, but was studying the television screen very closely.

"I don't think they're cousins," she stated.

"Hmm?"

"Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune. I don't think they're really cousins."

"Why not?"

"Because they always look like they want to make out with each other."

Santana groaned. "I'm going to regret telling you this. I did this paper in my Communications class on censorship. In Japan, they're like gay-married. In the comics, they do stuff in bed that makes us look tame."

"Really?"

"No," Santana replied, causing Brittany's face to drop. "We do all the naughty stuff, too. You think I'm holding out on you?"

Brittany looked up at Santana like she wasn't sure how to answer the question. Instead, she snuggled up against Santana's chest and closed her eyes. Santana continued to watch the cartoon, quickly growing bored when Sailor Moon started making eyes at Tuxedo Mask. She grabbed the remote control with her free hand, shut the DVD player off, and scooted down to fall asleep facing Brittany.

: : :

Tina looked betrayed. There standing in the middle of the room were Mercedes and Mike claiming they had a duet to perform. Taking a page from Santana and Brittany's and Kurt's performances, they were ready with costumes. Mike was dressed in one of his casual hip-hop outfits, with a white motif. Mercedes on the other hand, had dressed up in a hot pink blouse with a matching beret, and white capris. Santana grinned; all loose ends were about to be tied up. Kurt had released Sam from their partnership, and he and Barbie had done their toothache-inducingly sweet song about being in love with your best friend. Santana would have chimed in with "So freakin' charming" again, had it not been for Brittany swaying along, a thousand-watt smile on her face, laying her head on Santana's shoulder halfway through. That had shorted out the Latina's brain, and she'd ended up playing with the girl's ponytail instead of sharing her sarcasm with the group. Kurt had also done his tranny show. For fun, Santana had teased him about "vocal masturbation," and he'd replied with the same "embracing the male and female side" drivel, though he implied it was something Santana "might be familiar with."

At the front of the room, Mike's legs were shaking, and it could have been nervousness or it could have been anticipation. He was pretty restless in most classes, and it reminded Santana of Brittany's constant desire to be dancing.

"Ready?" Mercedes whispered to her right.

Mike nodded, looking not the least bit ready. After a heavy breath, he stomped on the ground three times. There was a long, dead pause and finally Mercedes clapped her hands rapidly about eight times. The music started up behind her, a repetitive guitar melody on top of a drum set.

Mike, staring intently at Mercedes, starting from barely a whisper, started chanting, "_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah… sing it for me._"

Mercedes followed with some _ooh_'s while Mike danced in place, something simple from his normal repertoire. In a higher register than her typical norm, she sang:

_I don't know if I've ever felt like this before_

_But I'm sure that the way I feel, I don't want it to go_

'_Cuz I've cried my share of tears_

_And I've sang my share of blues_

_But to keep you over here, I'll do what I got to do_

_So baby, call on me_

_Whether day or night, I'll never leave_

Mike rapped smoothly:

_See you don't have to be alone_

_I'll come anywhere you want_

_Baby just pick up the phone and call on me_

And then Mercedes joined him, singing over his raps:

_So you ain't know_

_I wanna be your homie, lover, friend_

_See there it go, see there it go_

Tina was frozen still, the color long since drained from her face. She looked like a statue ready to crumble, with an expression indicating she'd probably like that. But Mike was able to break her catatonia as he suddenly leaped forward, sliding on his knees right in front of her, and effortlessly popping back up into a standing position. He rapped right to her, somehow executing a number of tricky spins and pop-and-lock moves without missing a beat:

_See I never met a girl that could break me down_

_It's like I get caught in the middle_

_I get caught up a little anytime that she's around_

_I be posted, waitin' on standby_

_Lookin' to catch the hint_

_I'm doin' whatever, whenever_

_Never forget I said I'd be here when you want_

_To get what you need, if you wanna receive_

_Oh, please believe you could_

In an instant, Tina's expression changed and she now looked tickled pink. Artie was more a shade of red. Santana fantasized about rolling him into traffic.

Mike backed up, joining with Mercedes as they repeated the chorus several times, but Mike continued to stare intently at Tina, breaking eye contact only to perform a complicated dance maneuver.

When the song eventually wound down, there was no silence afterward, just a cacophony of cheers. "Whew!" Mr. Schuester had gushed, "that was _awesome_, guys. Janet, or should I say Mercedes, stellar as usually." Rachel harrumphed, taking offense to Mr. Schue using any words of praise that had lexical root pertaining to stars. "And, Mike, I think we can all say you found your voice." They high-fived.

"Just needed the right inspiration," he remarked, looking straight at Tina. At this point, Artie looked about ready to roll _himself_ into traffic.

After glee was dismissed, Santana stayed in her chair, confusing Brittany. "Can you not get up? Was it the fro-yo we had with lunch? I'm always afraid ice cream's going to get mad at us for eating it and freeze our bodies in revenge."

"Brittany, only spicy foods can take revenge on you. And candy. And chocolate chip cookies. But that's it. And I'm just watching Mike and Tina get back together."

Brittany looked out to where Tina and Mike were quietly talking. They paused as Artie rolled by while glaring, but continued talking when he was out of earshot. "Aw, Santana, I always knew you were a big softie."

"No, I'm not!" she denied, "But since they're not cousins—like Amara and Michelle—they can date and why shouldn't they? Some people just go together." She extended her pinky, which Brittany took as she sat down.

"So…" Tina began, "that was really brave of you. You got over your fear just for me?"

"Yeah, you bet."

"So, uh, I was kind of a bitch—"

"No."

"Yes. Mike, I want to get back together. I was an idiot."

"I… didn't realize we'd broken up."

"Yeah, I know. We kind of left it in an awkward place. But I'd actually prefer we _had_ broken up."

"Why?"

"I can't lie to you. Artie and I… we, we were… going through songs. And he… not that I'm surprised he would do this… well, he intentionally ran through _our_ playlist… the one we made up when we were dating." She shook her head. "We—I was so frustrated with you, and I didn't want Artie to hold a grudge… I just wanted the two of us to be friends again… so I was being nice to him…"

"Tina, you're stalling."

She admitted, her eyes watering, "We kissed. I mean, he kissed me and I didn't do anything… to stop it. It was for like a second." With frustration in her voice, she added, "And not five minutes later, he's reminding me of why I dumped him in the first place. I don't want to be a cheater, Mike. I just want to go back to where we were."

"Tina, I don't know—"

"Mike, please…" She reached out to him; Mike pulled back. "No."

"I need some time."

"Mike, you have to—"

"I need some space, Tina."

"No. I'm sorry. Can't we get over this?"

"Tina," Mike pressed, "I'm not saying _no_. I'm just saying I need some time to process this. I don't, I don't know what I want to do yet."

Swallowing a sob and wiping a tear from her face, Tina nodded. "Okay, okay, I-I can, I can handle that. Take as long as you need. I'll wait. Just know that I am so, so sorry. I messed up."

Up on the risers, Santana watched the deteriorating conversation. She couldn't hear the words, but she could see their faces.

"That doesn't look like happily ever after," Brittany commented.

"No, it's because the story's not over." She turned her head to look at the blonde resting her head on her shoulder, "I think the story's just beginning."

* * *

A/N: There's an alliance in the deep abyss of the fandom. At first it was Artie/Tina and Brittany/Santana shippers joining forces to… I don't know, send vibes into the ether to get our pairings together. Then they joined forces with the Puck/Quinn and Kurt/Sam shippers, who had their own buddy-buddy thing going on. Now, I think they're letting Finn/Rachel in as like a junior member or something, like your annoying little brother that your mom makes you play with, because, hey, they don't get in the way of our ships, right? I'm surprised they didn't drag the Will/Emma flock in with them. Are those two tight? I never got a good read on that. Anyway, my point is that this story seems to be heading in the San/Britt and Tina/Mike direction. I hope this doesn't cause issues because I don't know how the overlap is between these two groups. I don't know why I care. For example, I've never really hidden my disdain for the Faberittana crowd. Okay, it's not _disdain_, just a bit of eye rolling at the overt femslashing. To be honest, they post _quality_ ficcage, so I'm not at all complaining, really, it's just… never mind, I'm sure I'm about to start a flame war by saying something involving the word "canon." Really, everyone, just pretend I didn't say anything.

Also, for those of you too lazy to Google, Mike and Mercedes sung "Call On Me" by Janet Janet featuring Nelly.


	4. Touch Me

Doing It Right: Chapter 4  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. She just didn't realize she was going to be in it for the long run.  
Spoilers: 2x04 "Duets" – 2x15 "Sexy"

A/N: Since I'm posting this simultaneously with LJ, you might as well know what they know. This series will be fifteen chapters long.

* * *

Chapter 4: Touch Me

The next week flew by for Santana. She lost hours at a time, and once two straight days. Luckily for her, Cheerios practice typically disappeared, even if the muscle aches didn't. What seemed important were the fleeting moments with Brittany. She had let the first few pass her by, but began taking advantage of them, not wanting to let one second go to waste. She made sure to hold Brittany extra tight during cuddle time; she whispered sweet nothings in her ear in the middle of class; and she always caught her eye before Cheerios practice. She began to wonder how her body behaved during the blackouts. Did she run on autopilot? Was her autopilot based on her current mental state, or that from five month ago? Did anyone, Brittany especially, notice the difference between her lucid periods and her dark periods?

She was in glee now and Mr. Schue was talking about performing _The Rocky Horror Show_, or at least an edited adaption of it. She'd seen the movie twice: once with her older brother when she was far too young to understand it, and again when she was fourteen, noticing all the things that had gone over her head, and there were _a lot_ of things. Much like before, Mr. Schue already had most of the parts cast in his mind: Finn and Rachel as the vanilla main couple, Artie as the guy in a wheelchair, Kurt as the tranny (again he balked and got the part of Riff-Raff after some pleading), Sam playing the cinematic version of himself (except with fluid sexuality), and no one playing Eddie, who Mr. Schue cut for reasons unknown.

"We'll be doubling up on the Columbias and Magentas." Mr. Schue would have left it there, but Santana decided to be more proactive. "Mr. Schue, which one will I be playing?"

The curly-haired teacher seemed surprised at her interest. "Well, I think you'd be a good fit for one of our Magentas. I wanted to reserve Columbia's role for Tina and Brittany, who both have tap experience."

"So can I request 'Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me'?"

"Uh, sure; you realize that Magenta only has a small part in that song?"

"Yeah, but let's be honest, Mr. Schue, Magenta and Columbia are totally gettin' up in each other's business during that song, and frankly, me and Britts are probably the only two comfortable with the lesbian hijinks."

"Well, we're actually going to tone that part down."

"Santana's free to it," Quinn declared. "I don't care how much you tone it down, I'm not going to be mock-fondling any girls. Does that mean I get 'Time Warp'?" she asked Santana.

"As long as I get to make it up with 'Science Fiction'. Let's be honest, these Latina _labias_ will look much better in close-up than your pale, pencil-thin puckers."

"Fine, that'll all work out great," Schuester noted, "but we're still down a Dr. Frank."

Santana's eyes tilted down to where Tina was sitting and noticed Mike was not sitting by her. She found him in her row, two seats away, looking withdrawn. The courage he gained the week before seemed to have diminished due to his break from Tina. Santana scooted over a chair, finding herself having to extract her pinky from Brittany's, which she didn't even remember having connected. _Not that that's a bad thing._

"Hey, Mike," Santana whispered, "While you're playing wallflower, Mr. Schue is completely forgetting your Asian ass. You gotta claim a part, honey. Why not try out for Dr. Frank? You'll impress Tina."

"Give me a break, Santana," Mike hissed, "I don't need you teasing me, saying I'm bi or feminine or whatever."

"Just trying to help," she groaned drolly, sliding back into place to where Brittany was seated. She twirled her finger in Brittany's ponytail and allowed the girl to situate her long legs into her lap.

: : :

Hot Dr. Carl showed up at glee the next day, right on schedule. Will passive-aggressively made him audition for the part he couldn't pay someone to take. Santana didn't really like that attitude on her teacher. During Dr. Carl's rousing edition of "Hot Patootie", Santana was fully ready to jump up during the swing portion and partner with her blonde lover along with the other couples, except Brittany and Mike started dancing. _Tina and Mike are still in limbo_, she realized.

Santana got constant updates about their relationship from Brittany, who believed her to be genuinely interested in the repair of their relationship. Perhaps she was; the reasons why she'd conspired to get them back together were nebulous. Was it to get Mike to stop flirting with Brittany? Santana couldn't pin down her motives precisely. And she couldn't exactly deny that she had a new outlook on love. Not a week ago (in her mind), she thought love to be a folly, something for the weak-minded. _Not anymore._

Santana was never one to take things lying down, so she jumped up, grabbed Tina and Mercedes, and started a dance circle with the three of them. When the couples split up to do some solo dancing, Santana claimed her spot in front of Brittany. The chorus finally popped up again; Brittany grabbed her and Santana got her swing dance. So elated, she got a little caught up with herself at the end. During the final notes, she and Brittany were still in dance position, both sets of hands interlocked, and she leaned in and laid a kiss on Brittany's cheek before pulling apart. Brittany blushed a little pink but Santana just dropped their hands and linked her pinky to Brittany's and watched as hot Dr. Carl finished up. Miss Pillsbury was bouncing and clapping; Mr. Schue was trying not to look too impressed, again filling Santana with a vague sense of disapproval.

When she took a step to the side, she felt Brittany's arm hold rigid. Brittany was locking eyes with Mercedes and Tina, who were staring in their direction and whispering. Santana caught their eyes and put on her mildest scowl. They looked suitably embarrassed, smiled, and in return Santana smiled at them, but it was a very small smile. She pulled Brittany back to their seats as Mr. Schue tried to use his director powers to keep Carl out of the play. In the end, Sue restored Eddie's role for Dr. Carl and Mercedes claimed the Frank-N-Furter role. Mr. Schue frowned for rest of the rehearsal.

Santana looked down and noticed that Tina and Mike had accidentally taken seats next to each other and were too embarrassed to move. They kept glancing at each other, each trying not to be caught by the other. It was only a matter of time before they settled their differences, Santana predicted. And Brittany seemed to have forgotten the strange looks they'd gotten and was happily scribbling "SANTANA" on the inside of her forearm with a gel pen. _All in all_, she thought, _things are good. I should probably apply to be a Chrono Knight... or stop playing so much _Final Fantasy_ with my brothers. All good, except Mr. Schue's pissy mood. _

: : :

Quinn had told Santana and Brittany after the morning Cheerios practice that she and Tina were relinquishing "Sweet Transvestite" to them. She repeated, nearly word for word, Santana's spiel about the pair being more comfortable with the lesbian theatrics. "It'll be easier renewing my friendship with her if I don't have to put my hands all over her body."

The rehearsal of the number went down without a hitch. Except for hot Dr. Carl bursting in through the wall earlier than planned. Miss Pillsbury clapped. Mr. Schue bitched. And Santana rolled her eyes for the last time at this problem.

Admitting defeat, she acknowledged that her change in perspective about love was now compelling her to take on yet another project: the game of tug-of-war that was being fought between Mr. Schue and hot Dr. Carl, with Miss Pillsbury being the rope. Santana had the benefit of knowing how it was going to turn out: Miss P would marry Dr. Carl, becoming Mrs. P-H; Mr. Schue would later get his head out of his ass and start tapping Ms. Holiday; and in between there would be a lot of depressing fawning and bad choices by Mr. Schue because of the guidance counselor.

One of those bad choices was the play, obviously, but Santana wasn't about to ruin the opportunity to relive good memories with Brittany.

But one of those bad choices Santana figured she could do something about.

: : :

Santana was a schemer, not a therapist. She didn't just _talk_ problems away; she got things done so that problems were crushed beneath her proverbial foot. _It's how things __**should**__ be done, dammit._ This is how she found herself loitering in the boy's locker room after lunch, knowing her Spanish teacher was changing clothes after his daily routine of running laps around the track. Santana walked around the lockers, finding Will just starting to get his shirt on. _Well, hello, William,_ _somebody's been hiding something under those vests._

"Santana?" Will cried, holding his shirt closed, "What are you doing in the boys' locker room?"

"Is this like a trick question?"

"Santana, this is highly inappropriate. You're a minor and I am one of your teachers!"

"Hey, I waited for you to put your pants on! So, in other news," Santana announced, "I heard you stole the role of the Monster from Sam."

"I-I didn't really think it was appropriate for Sam to be portraying such a sexual character." The excuse sounded rehearsed.

"Yeah," Santana remarked, uninterested, "so that means during 'Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me', the song as you'll remember I'm really excited to participate in, while Brittany and I are pretending to pretend to get it on, you and _Rachel_ will be pretending to actually get it on. Do I have that right?"

"I, uh…" Will remarked.

Santana lowered her eyebrows.

The intercom saved Will from further embarrassment. "Will Schuester, please come to the principal's office. It is concerning one of your glee kids."

Will's eyes shot open, looking at Santana, who remained calm. "I'm certain that's not about me." She grinned, "Well, I'm sure that's not about me _in this particular instance_."

Of course, it turned out to be about Finn roaming the halls in his boxers, scaring students with his doughy body. It wasn't like Santana _needed_ to eavesdrop outside the office, and it wasn't like she even needed to be sitting _right_ outside the office, since Principal Figgins' voice could be heard from all the nearby classrooms, but the glass walls provided a cool surface for Santana to lean against while she filed her nails and listened in. No one would miss her in Art class.

Even Santana was surprised how well her plan worked. In the middle of defending the play, Mr. Schue arrived at the brilliant lie that his playing Rocky was just a brainstorm. "In reality," he claimed, he'd already commissioned Emma to provide less revealing costumes for Finn, Rachel, and Sam: boxers and an undershirt for Hudson, a slip for Berry, and board shorts and a muscle tee for Evans.

It was a trade-off. Mr. Schue was no longer able to use his role as Rocky to leverage Miss Pillsbury into practicing "Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me" in an empty classroom, so Santana expected that hot Dr. Carl wouldn't be showing up to scream accusations at the glee director. But that also meant that she and Brittany wouldn't get the chance to creep on the teachers after Cheerios practice, watching them tearing each other's clothes off from the outside window, which would therefore not lead to them playfully dancing down the hallways followed by some awesome fooling around in Mrs. Castle's classroom.

But it _did_ mean they'd get to make it up during rehearsals of the song on stage.

: : :

She had to give Rachel credit; she was really dedicated to her craft. In front of her boyfriend—who looked slightly less doughy in his undershirt since the last time Santana's seen his chest—she passionately sung about losing her virginity to the deliciously muscled Sam—Fabray was a lucky bitch—all while letting him silently put his hands in all her naughty places while grinding up against him.

Santana could see Finn stewing in his seat. Sam had probably just gotten further than he had with Rachel. Granted, she wasn't paying _that_ much attention, because she was taking advantage of Schuester's distracted state to overdo her acting with Brittany: rubbing her stockinged legs, petting her arms, fondling the bow on her blouse, positioning herself between Brittany's legs, actually kissing her neck instead of just miming it, and she did it all on a tiny couch that forced them to remain very close. So, Fabray may be a lucky bitch, but she was a much luckier one.

The reason for Mr. Schue's distraction was of course the guidance counselor. Miss Pillsbury was seated in the audience, singing along with Rachel about wanting to be dirty and naughty, nearly as engrossed as the tiny actress, which was saying something, especially for a woman whose entire existence revolved around cleanliness and chastity. He was watching her intently, hardly paying attention to his supposedly cleaned-up version of _Rocky Horror_. He didn't see that Rachel's nipples were protruding through the fabric because she wasn't wearing a bra under her slip. Or Santana's "method acting" with Brittany. Or that Sam's muscle shirt was very, _very_ tight. This was a little more of Santana's scheming. She'd checked in with Miss P in her office; the counselor was hard at work not with her regular job but instead planning the costumes for the play. Santana had dropped an insincere but believable apology about her inappropriate comments about her dentist boyfriend, which put her in a good enough mood to agree to put Sam in a medium shiny gold muscle shirt instead of a large. _Maybe I'll see Fabray squirm a little at Rachel getting friendly with another one of her boyfriends. _

Brittany seemed receptive to her affections, giggling when Santana put her hands in places that she usually reserved for the bedroom, when they had privacy; places she would avoid even when they were showing off for drunken football players at weekend house parties. Brittany's eyes were clearly filling with lust as the song progressed, a promise of a fun night in the near future. And maybe Santana did overdo it a bit at the climax of the song, when she began thrusting her hips so hard she'd caused the two of them to tumble off the couch in a tangle of limbs.

The fall was apparently jarring enough to get Mr. Schue's attention, who call _cut_ on the scene. He told the group to take five, probably to cool himself down from whatever fantasy he was having about Miss Pillsbury. As Santana and Brittany got themselves untangled and checked for obvious bruises, Rachel descended the stairs in a rather blithe disposition until she noticed Finn's foul mood. They exchanged words, unwarranted accusations on Finn's part and appalled justifications on Rachel's. Santana swore she overheard Rachel claiming she was only thinking of _herself_ during her performance, which had a few disturbing implications of its own.

Brittany seemed distant as Santana tried to pick her up in a show of chivalry. The dress rehearsal of this song was not something the club had gotten to the first time, and Santana was eager to run through it again. Santana followed Brittany's eyes, seeing a distinct lack of interest from the peanut gallery in either the Finn/Rachel scuffle or Sam's nervous pacing, but rapt attention on the two of them. Kurt had that knowing look, Artie a lewd grin, and Quinn a suspicious frown.

Brittany turned around as not to face them, whispering in Santana's ear. "They're all looking at us. You probably want us to tone it down, right?"

"It's just the glee club. Who cares what they think?"

"But we're gonna be doing this in front of _everybody_: our parents… a bunch of people from school… Coach. They'll think the wrong thing."

Santana found it difficult to argue. She wanted to, obviously, but she knew why she'd have trouble in the debate. She knew from whom Brittany had gotten this argument.

_This is a step back. I am my own worst enemy. _

* * *

A/N: So, the Rocky Horror episode was a bit of a filler. And I'm not saying that this chapter was, too; it was a nice backdrop for some exposition and getting Santana settled into her role. It's just, I've got the first draft of the next chapter cranked out (and the following three to various degrees), and I'm afraid as fun as this one was, it's going to pale in comparison to what I'm going to accomplish later on.


	5. A Perfectly Logical Turn of Events

Doing It Right: Chapter 5  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: M  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes concerning her relationship with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. She learns that things might get worse before they get better.  
Spoilers: 2x06 "Never Been Kissed"

A/N: Did everyone notice the rating change? Just in case, I'll put it in capital letters.

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED M.**

So why? For one, the shit's gonna get real. And by "real" I mean "naughty" and by "naughty" I mean "mature sexual situations." And by "shit" I mean I might start using profanity. Thanks to **lets_duet** for betaing this chapter. I blame her entirely for my going off the deep end into depravity.

And I'm increasing my chapter count estimate to 16.

* * *

Chapter 5: A Perfectly Logical Turn of Events

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. The glee club's doing Rocky Horror, and Santana makes sure things don't go too off-course. Except she kind of doesn't like what a bitch Mr. Schue's being, so she prevents him from trying to be Rocky and flirting with Miss Pillsbury. "__You and __**Rachel**__ will be pretending to actually get it on. Do I have that right?__" Well, that fixes that. What it doesn't fix is Brittany getting really shy about how much affection Santana's showing her. Oops. And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

Santana Lopez was not a quitter. In the grand scheme of things, Brittany being embarrassed by the glee club watching them get their mack on, on stage, was a minor issue. Her goal was never to get Brittany comfortable with affection in public. _Though, that wasn't an issue before._ Her goal was to get Brittany to understand that in her apparently cold heart, there _were_ feelings for her, and that she _wasn't_ afraid of them.

And, to her credit, she thought she was doing a good job _showing_ Brittany that without being explicit. For the past week, Santana had spent every night in Brittany's bedroom, and all that it entailed. Hormones were to blame, she claimed, each time muttering the excuse more flippantly. And the sex was not her usual aggressive and detached style; she was always either possessive or tender. She always stayed the night, sneaking out right before dawn, but not before waking Brittany with a kiss to the temple or to the lips, whispering apologetically that she needed to get home before her parents woke up, but that she'd see her at school. And, most importantly, she'd kept her tongue loose when it came to terms of endearment, never hesitating to call Brittany "baby", "sweetie", or "honey." She was careful about one thing, though. No _I love you_'s slipped through her lips, even in the throes of passion, even while hoping for exactly that from Brittany.

And it was working. Her hand was cramping from having their pinkies linked almost constantly. She utilized even that as an opportunity. Hand massages led to arm massages, which led to back massages, which led to quickies in the locker room during lunch.

Also, she was constantly, _constantly_, catching Brittany staring at her. The girl was smitten, and she knew things could only go up from here.

Speaking of things going up, Mike finally took Tina back. He was a forgiving soul by nature, and it was more than obvious by Tina's avoidance of Artie that things were over between the exes. Santana didn't hear about the reconciliation from Brittany, however. When the blonde spontaneously shoved her into the astronomy room for a midday make-out session—yet another sign that Santana's plan was succeeding—the two stumbled upon the Asian duo rounding second base on top of Ms. Castle's desk. Granted, there would be the brief snafu of Mike believing Tina was fantasizing about Coach Beiste—which made no sense for _so_ many reasons—but Santana knew that this issue would resolve itself, so she didn't feel compelled to interfere.

Finn and Rachel, on the other hand, seemed a little distant. _Nah, I'm juggling enough balls as it is. _

: : :

Puck was back. Santana delighted in how very little she thought about the boy since she'd traveled back. Her journey had started after Mr. Schue announced his absence, so for her it was months and months ago that Puck had been sent to juvie. She had been so focused on Brittany, she had no need to ponder his absence, in general and especially in bed.

Schuester was splitting the club up into guys and girls for the Mash-up Duel, Part _Deux_. Kurt again tried to defect to the girls' team and again Will prevented him from doing so. Santana considered speaking on his behalf, but she debated whether it was worth it or the right thing to do. She'd already held her tongue concerning Dalton's probable population of queer students, as much for her own sake as for Kurt's. _Also, in retrospect, not that funny of a joke. _In the end, the moment passed, and Santana convinced herself that Kurt being on the boys' team was a good thing. He was gay, not transsexual, so besides feeling a kinship with the ladies, he shouldn't feel the need to _identify_ himself as one.

The next day, when Mr. Schue announced each team would being doing a mash-up by opposite gender groups, she threw in her support. She told herself it was for Kurt's sake, but she couldn't deny she was looking forward to seeing Brittany in that leather outfit again. The first time around, they'd had extra-sexy fun with those costumes the night after their performance. Santana was intent on keeping that tradition, and maybe even outdoing herself.

But, like last time, those costumes were both a blessing and a curse. Right in the middle of assembling them, Puck and Artie walked (and rolled) in. Berry, in the exact same tone as last time, cried "SPIES!" Some things never changed. And one of them was Artie developing an interest in Brittany.

After Puck's demeaning proposition, Santana was fully prepared to tell him to fuck off, but Brittany answered first.

"Sounds like fun," she'd told Santana, her eyes focused on her and not the boys.

As soon as she recovered from her heart crashing into her stomach, Santana studied Brittany's face, but the girl was being unusually inscrutable. It was a gamble either way, so Santana landed on the side of caution. "I never say _no_ to a trip to Breadstix," was her answer, a quote from a Santana from another time.

Puck yammered on for a little while—more misogynistic drivel probably; Santana wasn't listening—and he escorted Artie out of the room.

"What was that about, B?"

Brittany replied, "You love Breadstix. You're always saying we should never turn Puck down." Her tone wasn't completely honest, though.

"But with Artie?"

"I don't see why not. He's nice… for a robot. And I'm really excited to try eggplant parmesan ever since I wasn't able grow eggplants in my backyard. My mom got mad because she couldn't cook omelets one morning. Plus, he's been sad ever since he broke up with Tina and I don't want to hurt his feelings. Do robots have feelings?"

Santana was really tempted to tell her that robot-Artie _didn't_ have feelings, but if they were going to have dinner with him, there was too much risk of the lie backfiring. Santana reminded herself that Brittany thought of Artie as a complete stranger, at best a casual acquaintance. Like a mantra, she told herself: _They have no history; in the race for Brittany's heart you're winning by a mile_. But that begged the question, without Brittany approaching him first, how did Artie develop an interest in her? And why had destiny curved back around, setting up a double-date that Santana should have rendered impossible?

She decided to investigate with Puck. "So since when does Wheels have a woody for B?" she greeted him.

"I'm glad you're happy to see me back from the Big House," he replied. "And to answer your question, have you _seen_ the girl? Every guy but Kurt in this school wants a slice of that."

"Oh, I've seen her. I've seen more of her than you have, and more often, too."

"Is that so?" Puck replied, in a sad attempt to be coy. The boy was dense if he thought her double entendre was unintentional.

"Okay, but why Brittany? How did she get on his radar?"

"That was me. I'm on probation, and Artie's my community service. He's still moping because Tina jumped onto the Oriental Express, so I figured, I get the guy laid; it's service to the downtrodden. And the easiest way for that to happen is take him on a double date with the First Date Sorority." Santana only barely resisted clawing his eyes out then and there. "Plus, a month in the slammer has given me a lethal case of blue balls." He rubbed her lower back and Santana suppressed a cringe.

"I should be so lucky," she muttered under her breath. "Look, you could've gotten plenty if you had been open to new experiences."

"Ooh, saucy. Somebody missed the Puckzilla while he was gone."

"You'd be surprised."

_Well, damn if that isn't a perfectly fucking logical turn of events. _

: : :

It was a preliminary strike, Santana reasoned. Before their double date with Puck and Artie, Santana asked Brittany to model her Bon Jovi outfit for her. When the blonde came out of her bedroom closet, clad completely in tight black leather that hugged every curve, she found that her best friend had a surprise for her. She had strut into the room like a runway model, only to encounter Santana lying on her bed, dressed in black leather, too, arms over her head, the chain belt tied around both wrists and through the slats of her headboard. While Brittany was getting her costume on, Santana had put on hers, too.

"Brittany, I think I'm stuck," she explained with all the subtly of a 70s adult film actress.

Brittany took her statement at face value, giggled, promised not to tell anyone, and offered to help her get unstuck.

"We've got some time to kill. If you want to do _something else _before you untie me, that's okay."

Brittany thought for a minute, then daydreamed for a minute as her eyes raked in Santana's vulnerable form, and noted, "This is just an idea, but since you're tied up like how you sometimes tie me up, we could…"

"Yes, Brittany, let's do that."

She wasted no time in straddling Santana's hips and rubbing her hands across the leather garments, providing the brunette with only the bare minimum of tactile stimulation.

In defiance of her past routine, Santana had taken to changing out of her uniform whenever she wasn't at school, and prodded her best friend to do the same. Brittany's normal sleepwear was a combination of the world's tiniest pair of exercise shorts and a too-tight, too-short tank top, and Santana was not going to miss a second of that image. And in order to get Brittany equally enamored, she defined her pajamas as a pair of bikini-cut panties under an oversized, off-the-shoulder tee, the kind where the collar was loose enough to give a glimpse of her bare chest every time she leaned over. And it worked like a charm.

Leather seemed to have the same effect in getting Brittany in the mood, but it was thicker than cotton, and very tight, preventing friction of any kind. So she was glad when Brittany finally decided it was time to start unzipping zippers. The girl was a tease, though, deciding that her zippers came first, so Santana had to "suffer" through watching Brittany undress first. And since she never missed the opportunity to dance, she practiced some of the choreography from their upcoming performance.

Forty-five minutes later, the pair were running late for their double date.

"What should we wear?" Brittany asked from the shower.

Santana had finished drying off and was now ogling Brittany's form through the frosted, beach-theme shower curtain and making mental plans for later. She replied, "We'll put on our Cheerios uniforms. It's what they'll be expecting anyway." For the double date, their prim polyester uniforms were a requirement. No-hawk and No-Legs weren't getting the real thing; they got the façades.

: : :

Santana spent the majority of the night wishing her dinner knife were sharp enough to slice off Puck's roaming hands. She could just imagine the slime that was now greasing her uniform. _I'm going to need a shower after tonight. _

Luckily, Puck was biding his time until he could get the Latina in bed, since he didn't seem to care that Santana's ear hadn't absorbed a word he'd said that night. She remembered his dumb spiels about waffles and gang fights the first time around and felt less than zero need to hear them again. Instead, she glared across the table at Brittany flirting openly with Artie. She recognized the persona that Brittany had put on; it was the one Santana had taught her. Artie for the most part alternated between lavishing in and being conflicted by the attention. Every once in a while, he would put on the disinterested act after a glare from Puck.

Before she knew it, Puck was pushing them to dine-and-dash, and Santana panicked. In the intervening time, she'd learned how serious of a crime it was, and worse, that you could get _banned_ from the restaurant you committed it against. But having spent the night trying to set Artie on fire with her mind, she hadn't gotten to planning an exit strategy.

Artie lagged behind, paying for dinner, and Santana resolved to be 3 percent less snotty to him. Puck looked disgusted. Brittany just looked confused. _I've got to undo the training that makes her think of service industry workers as lesser mortals._ Then came Puck's suggestion for a threesome, and Santana was ready with the headache excuse that had gotten them out of this jam from last time, but Brittany jumped in first, "Ooh, we've never done that before." She sounded genuinely interested, enough to fool the dense Puck, but Santana could hear the falseness in her voice. She was also giving Santana a searching look.

Santana tried to decipher Brittany's expression. She was definitely testing her, but it was impossible to read how she wanted her to respond. For the first time since Santana had traveled back, she was angry at her best friend. She had been worshipping her, body and soul, for the past month, and the girl was playing mind games with her. "Then let's do it," she answered, the venom in her voice carefully hidden.

Puck looked like he'd won the lottery, completely missing the silent conversation that had just occurred in front of him. The check now paid out of his own allowance, Artie glared at the three of them from the booth, his face only softening when Brittany smiled vacantly at him. He rolled off, saying he was going to call his dad to bring the family van. Puck shuffled the two girls out; whether he'd heard Artie or not was irrelevant.

He drove them to his house, speeding the entire time, while either pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming or fondling himself openly in the front seat. Santana had pulled Brittany into the back seat and was not saying a word or looking at Brittany, but didn't denying the hand she was offered.

The Puckermans' house was empty. His mother was working the late shift and Puck explained that he'd dropped his sister off at Chuck E. Cheese's so he wouldn't have to babysit her. He practically raced to his room, with Santana drudging along like it was a death march, her hand gripping Brittany's tightly.

Puck was literally pacing when the two Cheerios joined him in his room. "So, how do you want to do this?"

The reality of the situation finally struck Santana, so she worked fast. "Sit your ass down, Puckerman. Britts and I will start the show and invite you in when it's time." _Which will be n__ever._ "Try not to blow your load." _Please do; it'll make it easier on all of us._

By the rustling of clothing, Santana assumed Puck was quickly undressing. She directed Brittany to the bed into a kneeling position facing the footboard. She joined her friend, who was looking at Puck uncomfortably. Santana grabbed the girl's face and embraced her with a deep, longing kiss, her tongue seeking access almost immediately.

Puck whooped at the display. "Shit, this is hot!"

This drew Brittany's attention, but Santana reclaimed it with another intense make-out session. When Puck startled heckling for some clothes to be removed, Santana cringed and unzipped her top and threw it at him violently. Without asking, she did the same with Brittany's, recapturing her in a kiss before the spell could be broken. As much as she tried to block him out, Puck was the elephant in the room, a noisy, lecherous elephant that was expecting to be allowed to trample in at any moment.

When Puck got too chatty, Santana pulled down her bra and unhooked Brittany's to distract him. It didn't work. "Ladies, the Puckzilla can't wait any longer." He hopped up from his chair and sniffed Santana's hair, putting a hand on each of the girls' shoulders. Santana cringed at the touch and she noticed Brittany did the same. Locking eyes with Brittany, Santana finally noticed the fear in her eyes, the tears that were building. She had wanted anything but this; she had wanted Santana to say _no_. And now she just wanted her protector to fix this. She turned to Puck, and in her typical biting tone, explained, "So, your greasy hands are totally throwing off my game. Change of plans."

Puck's face was in a glare in an instant. "You're a goddamn tease, Lopez."

"Shut your waffle hole, Cool Hand Luke. Maybe if you stop being such a whiny bitch, Britts and I can put on a good show for you instead."

"Oh, please, I've got free Skinemax ever since I bullied that A/V kid with asthma."

Santana pushed Brittany down on the bed, hiking up her skirt and slipping off the briefs underneath it. Brittany crossed her legs and twisted away, hiding herself from Puck. "Well, maybe I can upgrade your subscription." She got on her hands and knees, spread Brittany's legs, and lowered her head between her thighs. She looked up once at Brittany, who nodded subtly with relief, shooting a quick wary glance in Puck's direction. Puck's eyes looked like they were going to drop back in his head, as he stumbled back into a sitting position at the foot of the bed with all the grace of a naked zombie.

Santana's head disappeared between Brittany's legs, and when the blonde's strong legs closed around her head, she was only too happy to have them muffle Puck's grunting. She had hoped that Puck would have a hair trigger after his forced period of abstinence, but the asshole had probably been jacking off like a mental patient to get his stamina back up. Instead, it looked like she was going to have to go through with her promise and she tried to block him out by distracting herself with pleasuring Brittany.

Brittany's moans and writhing were apparently enough to get Puck off, who swore at his poor pacing. Santana pulled up, causing Brittany to groan in frustration, and stated that they needed to switch positions. She pushed Brittany off the bed, put Puck in her place lying back, and pulled Brittany back in a kneeling position at the foot of the bed, where she joined her again. "Enjoy the rest of the show," she told Puck, the last thing she planned on saying to him that night, if not forever.

Her hands grabbed two fistfuls of hair and crashed their lips together. Once Brittany started responding, she started rubbing her hands all over the girl's now exposed body. She teased all the right areas, but didn't take the show out of softcore porn territory. Before long, Puck's drowsiness overtook him, and he began softly snoring with his hand resting on his groin. Santana sighed, covering Puck up with a sheet.

"You want to get out of here, and finish this right? You can sleep over at my place." Brittany quickly agreed. "But I need a shower first," Santana stated dully. Brittany just nodded vigorously, if not desperately.

Puck's suburban neighborhood was only a quarter mile from Santana's gated community, so the pair walked. Brittany offered her pinky, but Santana grabbed her whole hand, interlacing all their fingers, squeezing just a little too hard.

* * *

A/N: So, this chapter went through a major rewrite. The original version had Santana going through with the threesome. It wasn't until I posted that I realized the unfortunate implications. Still, I feel as if this rewrite lightens things a little too much. I found it difficult to capture just how much I wanted Puck to be an intruder.


	6. The Spark That Sets It Off

Doing It Right: Chapter 6  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: M  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. After a dark chapter, she thinks she's finally seeing the light.  
Spoilers: 2x06 "Never Been Kissed" – 2x07 "The Substitute"

A/N: After updating Chapter 5, this one need a rewrite, too. The rest of the series will remain on track. And Chapter 21 will come. It's still in scattered idea form, but the important thing is that there are enough ideas.

* * *

Chapter 6: The Spark That Sets It Off

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Santana is using every tool in her toolkit to endear Brittany to her, all one of them. Puck's back from juvie, and he's ready to get back into the game with a double-date with Artie, Brittany, and Santana. Santana's not happy, but Brittany gets them roped into the date, which almost ends with a threesome with Puck, but Santana stops it in the nick of time. Whew! That was a close one! And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. "You okay?" she asked Brittany as they headed toward her house.

"Yeah," Brittany replied, her voice much lighter in tone than Santana's, "That was weird. The way Puck talks about threesomes, I thought it'd seem like more fun. Thanks for… you know, stopping Puck. I was way too nervous."

"What have I always said?"

"'You can always say no. Always.'"

"That's right. Though, as you could tell, it goes over better if you do it before the guy takes his pants off," Santana tried to joke.

Not laughing, Brittany asked, "Why'd we even agree to that?"

"You're the one who wanted to do it."

"No, I just said we'd never done it before. _You're_ the one who agreed, so I went along with you."

"Oh. I guess I just read you wrong."

"No, you didn't," Brittany remarked meaningfully.

By the time they arrived at the Lopez residence, Santana's family was already asleep, so she took Brittany down to her room and into the private bathroom. Without a word, she began stripping out of her uniform on the tile floor. Brittany nervously shifted her feet, averting her eyes.

"Brittany, you've seen this so many times you probably know it better than me. C'mon, join me, it'll be faster." _It'll be faster_ was the most transparent excuse in the history of coy excuses, and Santana made it all the more obvious by showing no subtly. Brittany half-smiled and started undressing, too.

Santana had a walk-in shower, just big enough for two people, and she was extremely thankful for it at this moment. The cascading water washed away the nervous tears that had built up, washed away the memory of the past two hours of embarrassment. All she cared about now was having Brittany's slick skin flush against her own. She faced the wall, letting the spray cover her and Brittany. The girl was either completely clueless or totally empathic, because she didn't try to talk to Santana; she just snaked her arms around the Latina's waist and used her dexterous fingers to clear every thought from Santana's mind.

After the shower, Santana pulled Brittany into her bedroom the moment the two were toweled off. Their hair was still moist; Santana couldn't be bothered to let them blow-dry their hair, telling Brittany it would wake her brothers. It was obvious was she really needed. Brittany didn't even get a chance to ask if they were going to put on pajamas because Santana attacked her, pressing their lips together, not even stopping to lock the door like usual, and took her into bed and…

Santana couldn't deny what she had been doing all this time anymore. She was making love to Brittany, except she wasn't saying the word. It made it feel wrong and dirty, like she was somehow taking advantage of her best friend. _She loves me. I love her. I'm not doing a damn thing wrong. Nothing about this could be wrong. This is beautiful. And I need it more than air right now._

For a moment, she was briefly able to amuse herself with the idea that all this intimacy might somehow ruin their honeymoon by sheer comparison. But then the implications of her imagining a honeymoon with Brittany sent a chill—a good but still frightening chill—down her spine.

: : :

Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. She had woken up, or rather Brittany the early riser had woken her, and her mind immediately jumped back to the events of the previous night, the ones between the double date and bringing Brittany home. Humiliation wormed its way through her chest. She hated having these thoughts mar what should have been the perfect morning: she was naked, Brittany was naked, and they were together in bed. But they knew the rules; Santana's whole family would be up, and while they respected her privacy, there was still a chance someone might venture down to check on her. The pair dressed in fresh uniforms; Santana always kept one of Brittany's extras in her closet along with her own.

When Brittany showed up with Santana at the breakfast table, no one in the Lopez family batted an eye. Santana had used the "she misplaced her keys" excuse enough times that her family stopped feeling the need to ask. Mrs. Lopez offered to make Brittany something: a bowl of cereal, a muffin, or some fruit. (The woman could cook; but the mood had to strike her.)

Santana had never wanted time to skip more than now. In less than an hour, she would be walking through the hallways of McKinley with Brittany by her side, risking the dreaded possibility of running into Puck, and the day could just disappear for all she cared. Luckily for Santana and her mixed mood, once the time came, Puck was too preoccupied with having his "community service" application denied to thank Santana for the live porn act.

: : :

Santana had never been more appreciative of a time skip. As she walked into Cheerios practice that afternoon, a day suddenly disappeared and she found herself sitting in glee next to Brittany watching the boys lined up in snazzy purple tuxedos. She scooted her chair closer so that their legs would touch. Brittany turned and smiled. Maybe that smile was saying, "Thank you for making us good again," or maybe it was saying, "Hey, there, best friend; isn't this fun?"

Unfortunately, she gave a delighted smile to Artie, too, as he rolled up and serenaded her. Puck was singing to Santana, looking extra appreciative, but she kept her expression neutral, giving him a small polite clap. His grin didn't falter; he wouldn't have reacted differently had she formed a heart with her hands, blown him a kiss, or flashed her breasts.

The boys finally consolidated their efforts, singing to Coach Beiste, and giving Santana the chance to reach her hand over to Brittany for some pinky-holding. She found that Brittany's hand was already extended, waiting for the connection.

_Thank you for making us good again. _

: : :

Ms. Holiday was sliding into the room like an ice skater when Santana next became lucid. _Wait, did I miss the opportunity to threaten Berry? I totally could have slithered out of Clown Lips' grasp this time around! _

"Wow, she's really hot," Brittany whispered in her ear, "Do you think she's secretly a Barbie doll that came to life?"

Jealousy coiled inside of Santana, but she pushed it down. "I guess she is pretty hot, if you're into tall, skinny blond chicks, like me," she teased, giving Brittany a nudge and a wink, causing color to rush to her cheeks. "But be careful, B, she's Mr. Schue's age so I don't want you getting another sub fired, especially one as cool as Ms. H."

"How do you know her?"

Santana took a moment to get her bearings. _Shit, she's right. Ms. Holiday is a virtual stranger to me, not my trusted confidante, and not (yet) the person that helps me realize my feelings for you._ "Kurt says she's awesome. Plus, she's wearing a skirt that would get me sent home. She can't be all bad." Brittany giggled.

_Also, if maybe if I sic her on Mr. Schue, he won't be such a sad sack around Miss Pillsbury. Plus, it'd be a nice thank you for all she's done (or will do) for me. _

Santana didn't get a chance to get too far into the planning of Phase II of Mission: Tug-of-War because the blond substitute began singing the song Puck had suggested what would have been the other day. Granted, she was singing the clean version of it. As much as she wanted to relate to the kids, she apparently had just enough sense not to start screaming the F-word to a bunch of sixteen-year-olds. That didn't stop Santana from singing the original chorus at Puck once everyone had lined up.

_I see you drivin' round town  
With the girl I love and I'm like,  
Fuck you!_

She mouthed the obscenity, of course; she had just enough sense not to get herself suspended. But she sang the words with sincerity, giving Puck her most cutting bitch-face. It didn't have the intended effect. If anyone was immune to her scowls by now, it was him, and he seemed to think she was flirting with him. _I bet no__thing short of castration is going to get him off my scent now__, _she mused.

: : :

Mr. Schue would recover from the monkey flu any day now and Santana still wasn't sure how she was going to influence his meeting with Ms. Holiday so that the two would... _connect_ sooner. She was finding it difficult to find time to plot, though. Even though she seemed to be lucid a greater percentage of the time, Cheerios activities were still dark zones, and Sue's no-junk-food initiative was eating into her day. Santana had already dropped the Cheerios once without looking back, so it did occur to her to defect again. She had motive, too: her physical enhancements kept her off of Sylvester's head Cheerio short list, but given the coach's propensity for using Santana as a loyal minion in her schemes, she realized that she had earned at least part of her tacit forgiveness, not that Coach would ever admit she possessed such a trait, and would certainly deny even knowing the meaning of the word.

But she was in Cheerios with Brittany, so even those ten-second glances before practice were something she was not willing to forgo, especially as their relationship was recovering after the _Rocky Horror_ embarrassment and Puck threesome fiasco.

Most of the club was infatuated with Ms. Holiday, fickly forgetting their devotion to Mr. Schue, but Santana didn't judge; she was no better the first time around.

But the entire club wasn't polarized. As Santana was confiscating the tray of tater tots from the lunchroom, Kurt was blabbering to Mercedes and Quinn about what a great pair Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday would make (as co-directors, not as lovers the way Santana was envisioning) and she suddenly felt like she might have an unwitting ally in her matchmaking scheme. She regretted her plotting when Karofsky came up, grabbed the now-cool tray of tater tots from her, and dumped it over Kurt's head. Everyone was slow to react. Quinn jumped up and started yelling at the slowly retreating, grinning Karofsky. Mercedes comforted Kurt with one hand while grabbing tots off the table with the other. Her divided attention caused Kurt to leap up and head out of the cafeteria. Santana chased him into the girls' bathroom.

"He won't follow me in here," he explained without looking up. He seemed surprised by her presence, expecting either Mercedes or Quinn.

"Sorry about that. I shouldn't have been loitering."

"You two plan that?"

"Of course not," Santana hissed more viciously than she intended, "Karofsky's a jerk. Even I try to avoid that knuckle-dragger. You okay?"

"Physically, yeah; it's not like tater tots are heavy or sharp or anything. A few grease stains," he mentioned, examining his charcoal turtleneck. "Why is everyone in this town such a homophobe?"

"Hey, watch it, _you_ start stereotyping people, and the Tea Partiers win."

Kurt snickered. "I appreciate your apology, Santana. You're not as bad as the rest of them," he noted diplomatically.

It was a tempered compliment, but a compliment just the same, but Santana realized it was too late to push her luck. Maybe Kurt wasn't going to be the ally she needed.

: : :

Santana was finally resolved to the fact that Berry was going to have to be her accomplice. She was the lone dissenter against Ms. Holiday, apparently believing the devil you know is better than the one you don't. _God, the girl has a complex._ Later on, Ms. Holiday would win her over, through Broadway unsurprisingly. The lady knew what buttons to push, and Mr. Schue had plenty of buttons for pushing. _Didn't mean that in the sexual sense. Well, now that I think about it, I __**mostly**__ don't mean that in the sexual sense. _

She had to suffer through Rachel's blubbering about her turbulent relationship with Finn. _Rocky Horror_ had put him on edge, but even though they'd worked through those issues, things were still raw and Finn's utter failure to side with her concerning Ms. Holiday put them in another skid. It wasn't all bad, at least from Santana's point of view; Puck's revelation to Finn about the threesome had gotten him to divulge that Rachel was less resistant to pushing the boundaries of their physical relationship. She hadn't come close to letting him go all the way, but he was making more progress than he probably was before.

It wasn't just Santana's normal sexual permissiveness that influenced her views. Right now, she was using sex—_making love_—to develop her relationship with Brittany, and doing so with both intensity and frequency. There was one caveat: Berry's willingness to partner up with her for the cause probably meant Finn hadn't revealed their tryst. Even though it felt like a lifetime ago, it wasn't; for Santana it was over a year ago; for Finn less; and for Rachel it would be like Finn was rutting with her right before his girlfriend's eyes.

She made a mental note to add this issue to her checklist. It wasn't worth her usual machinations, though; she'd simply corner Finn and give him a speech she was already preparing in her head: "Believe it or not, Hudson, but I've got your best interest at heart on this. Don't take your bite-size girlfriend's virginity until you come clean about us. Right now, she's imagining some romantic coupling, the mutual bestowal of each other's innocence, complete with rose petals, silk sheets, and a lavender negligee—Pay attention, Finn, this is important!—and she will never forgive you if she finds out she wasn't the one to deflower you. I will keep my mouth shut, but understand if you do this wrong, you won't be the only one to catch the wrath of Berry. Girls are not made out of sugar, spice, and everything fuckin' nice; they're made of deranged romantic notions, pure irrationality, and mutilating their rivals on the battlefield."

So that was why Santana was playing nice to Rachel. The girl had her uses, too; she was aware of the friendship between Ms. Holiday and Coach Sylvester that Santana hadn't caught onto. It was good information, even if Santana wasn't sure how to use it, though.

: : :

She should have known by now that most problems would fix themselves if she just trusted the timeline to follow its normal path concerning events she didn't tinker with. Mercedes had started a riot about the junk food. It was like the girl didn't realize that Lima was full of fast food restaurants and that even Breadstix had started frying them up for the cooking oil-addicted teens who wanted to get their fix of both potato and pasta in one sitting. Kurt and Quinn had even backed her up. Kurt thought Mercedes was replacing her love life with food, and not having one of his own, decided to join the cause. Quinn _did_ have a relationship, but it seemed important to her to find any common ground with Mercedes to bond over. A flimsy excuse about past pregnancy cravings was enough to endear Mercedes to her. Their support didn't seem familiar to Santana, but then again the whole junk food disaster hadn't really concerned her the first time, since she was better off dead than caught with anything in her mouth on school grounds save Sue's Master Cleanse. She got all the calories she needed on her own time, and if it was more than her metabolism dictated, that's what five-mile runs were for.

She'd been burning a lot of calories this time around, too, and she didn't even have to get out of bed.

_But I digress. And I get to put other things in my mouth. Ooh, I'm bad! _

Long story short, one ruined LeCar plus one unaccountable substitute teacher equaled one soured relationship based solely on wine and bad reality television. Santana was waiting in the wings with Berry, ready with a tale of the magnanimous William J. Schuester, full of energy, stamina, and passion, and devotion to his glee club, more than a little old-fashioned charm, which he made up for by knowing the needs of his beloved singers and the willingness to selflessly provide for them. And, yes, Santana used all those double entendres and more. Rachel was suspicious of her language, but Ms. Holiday seemed to think it was unintentional. She promised to talk with Mr. Schue, and after a little prodding from Santana, Rachel provided the sub with their teacher's address.

: : :

Santana relied on her glee teammates to get Mr. Schuester reinstated, and they didn't fail.

She paid a visit to Principal Sylvester, too. "You hear to yammer about how Schuester has taught you the true meaning of friendship?"

"Look, Mr. Schue's awesome, and you should absolutely hire him back, but I think you're making a mistake firing Ms. Holiday."

"The woman's teaching abilities are as ridiculous as her name."

"I'm not saying she doesn't have some gaping inadequacies, but no one's perfect. You being the exception of course."

"You paused too long between sentences. It's empty flattery."

"Is that a problem?" Santana replied immediately, showing no fear.

"Not at all. Go on."

"With a little training and maybe if Mr. Schue rubbed off on her a little bit…" The innuendo wasn't intentional this time. "…she'd make a great addition to the faculty. She relates well to students and that is a rare gift."

"Duly noted, Bouncy Balls. I'll keep it under consideration. You're excused unless you want to polish my nameplate with your comically oversized bosom."

Santana reverently bowed her head before leaving, her eyes traveling naturally to the nameplate: Principal Sue Sylvester.

Is that something I should be worried about? No, I've already got enough on my plate. I've barely devoted any energy to Brittany lately. We'll resolve that tonight, though.

: : :

_I'm such a sap_, Santana thought, as she lazily combed her fingers through Brittany's hair. She had just been thinking about how she could have spent the rest of her life lying in bed, cuddling with Brittany.

"So," Santana started conversation, not ready for Brittany to doze off yet, "Mike and Tina are back together."

"Thanks to you," Brittany answered, the warmth in her voice making Santana's heart flutter. _Sap_.

"Eh, they would have worked it out regardless. I just gave them a little nudge."

"Even though you pretend you're not, you're really nice, Santana. You're even nicer than you were last year, with all your secret meddling."

"You can't tell anyone about it, though. I'm like Batman."

"Batwoman," Brittany corrected.

"There is a Batwoman, you know. She's a lesbo, though." It was the first time Santana had broached this topic.

As usual, Brittany didn't follow the right thread. "Sam likes comic books, too. You two should hang out."

_Oh, no, we shouldn't_. "I don't like comic books. I just have two little brothers who won't shut up about them."

"They talk about lesbian superheroes?"

"They're thirteen. It's their two favorite topics rolled into one. It's _all_ they would talk about if they could get away with it."

"Mmm," Brittany hummed sleepily.

_Five more minutes, baby. _"So, I'm thinking about fixing Finn and Rachel's relationship."

"I didn't know they had broken up."

"They haven't, but they might if Finn does something stupid, which he inevitably will, so I'm going to make sure he doesn't."

"You're like the Robin Hood of romance." Her eyes were still closed.

"Speaking of which, what do you think about Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday?"

"They're both nice." She yawned.

"I think I'm going to fix them up."

Half-open blue eyes looked up at her. "Are they broken? Like Coach's car? Are you going to take them to Kurt's dad?"

"No, baby, I mean I'm going to try to get them to have some sexy-times."

"But I thought Mr. Schue liked Miss Pillsbury. But it's okay; sex isn't dating."

"Yeah," Santana reluctantly agreed, "I mean, Miss P is dating the sexy dentist, and I bet they're not having sex. But, you know, it wouldn't be a bad thing for Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday if they dated, too. I know they're really different, but sometimes opposites can go together really well."

"That's true," Brittany muttered, snuggling closer to Santana, "my cat is dating my mom's toothbrush. I've seen them making out."

Santana knew she'd lost Brittany for the night, but she'd made some good strides, so she drifted off without a worry in the world.

: : :

Mr. Schue came in for his first day back with a guilty smile, so even though Santana had no suspicions that her plans had already come to fruition, she hoped maybe she had sparked the beginning of something. He apparently hadn't learned his lesson about meeting them halfway, since he still suggested the catchy but fogey-ish "Singin' in the Rain." Santana prepared to send him in the direction of some inspiration in the U.S. History classroom, but by the gleam in his eye and his thoughtful glance into the hallways, she knew he'd already come up with the same idea.

"Santana, can we not have a sleepover tonight?" Brittany's question interrupted Santana's thoughts as Mr. Schue dismissed them from practice ten minutes early.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she declared, "I just… want to do something else tonight."

Santana's lungs filled with air again. "Brittany, of course. I guess I have been hogging you. You probably haven't gotten to spend any time with your family all week. We'll take the night off." She leaned in close, "I can keep my libido in check for one day."

Brittany giggled. "You could call Puck."

Santana scoffed. "Pass. I'll see you tomorrow, hot stuff."

Brittany just waved good-bye.

Five minutes later, Artie rolled up to Brittany's locker. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah." She hesitated. "Artie?"

Artie smiled. "Hmm?"

"This is just a friend date, right?"

"We're taking your little sister and my five-year-old cousin to a kid's science museum. That'd be like the lamest real date ever."

* * *

A/N: This series just keeps expanding. Part of the reason is that I'm going to focus on each episode for a chapter or two. And there's that psychological need to make sure each chapter is as long as the previous, meaning each chapter ends up being larger. And the way I add bulk is to add more of the storylines from each episode in. And that ends up creating overarching storylines in this series. This thing's going to be a freaking novel by the time I'm done. I should write a _Glee_ novel.


	7. A Three Front War

Doing It Right: Chapter 7  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee_  
Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: M  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes concerning her relationship with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. With the wedding coming up, Santana realizes she can't control everything.  
Spoilers: 2x08 "Furt"

A/N: I'm still going to rate this chapter 'M' for language and adult situations. I'll be using a lot of offensive words, but I'm not going to make excuses for the flaws of my characters.

* * *

Chapter 7: A Three-Front War

"Yay! I love weddings! Did you know that Kurt's dad and Finn's mom were dating?" Brittany asked, allowing Santana the chance to speak for the first time in eight minutes.

"Yeah, I did. Rachel constantly yammers about how great it is that Finn has a positive male role model. To get her to shut up, I told her that it would be great if _she_ had a male role model at home." Brittany was frowning at her. With artificially heightened enthusiasm, she added, "But we get to sing at the wedding! And we'll be Carole's bridesmaids!"

Brittany was now staring at her with playful suspicion. "Did you have anything to do with them getting together? Is it one of your _schemes_?"

"As much as I'd like to be the cause of that smile on your face, I can't take credit for this. So how was your family night?"

Brittany's enthusiasm suddenly diminished to a whimper. "Family night? Oh, yeah, we took my sister to the museum."

Santana scoffed. "Sounds boring. Why didn't you pick some night when you family was doing something fun to blow me off?"

"It was Joanna's birthday. She wanted to go."

"Really? Not the museum part. You're little sis is a dork. But it was her birthday? Usually your folks invite me to stuff like that. Granted, I've been spending a lot of time over at your place. They tired of me?"

Brittany borrowed the excuse, "Yeah, that's it."

"Well, you can come by my place tonight. My mom saw something she liked on the Food Channel and we're having something that requires a pound of feta cheese. And, afterwards, maybe you can make it up to me for leaving me high and dry. Or low and wet, should I say."

Brittany bristled. "I'm not the only person in this school. Hasn't Puck been texting you, like, constantly?"

"Mine isn't the only number in his phone. I've decided to become more selective this year." Santana bumped her hip into Brittany's.

: : :

After losing much of the school day, Santana suddenly found herself walking into the choir room. Rachel was standing by the piano wearing a puke green striped sweater, and Brittany, Quinn, and Tina were lined up on the bench, being addressed. It wasn't like Santana didn't know this moment, but it shouldn't have been happening.

"Um, why didn't anyone tell me we're having a glee girls' meeting?" she recited.

"This is a meeting for glee girls with boyfriends on the football team," Rachel explained matter-of-factly.

Santana's brown eyes locked with Brittany's blue ones. "Then why's Brittany here?"

The blonde didn't answer, looking guilty. "Apparently, she's dating Artie now," Rachel answered.

"Artie? Really?" Tina asked.

"Deal with it."

Tina shrugged indifferently. "Whatever. Good for you two."

This was not the reaction Brittany was expecting. Her eyes glanced over in Santana's direction, but never met hers.

Santana's heart died right there, or at least it felt like it did, since excruciating pain was spreading through her body starting at her chest. "Brittany, since when?" _How far did I jump? _

"Since yesterday," she announced. Suddenly her behavior that morning suddenly made sense.

"Well, maybe I'm dating Puck." Since the heart thing hadn't killed her, she might as well put poison on her tongue.

"Is that true?" Brittany asked, a mixture of emotions in her voice.

Quinn quipped, "No, it's not true. She's just getting naked with Puckerman."

"Hold up, I'm not doing either! I haven't given him the time of day in weeks…" _A__t least I hope I haven't. I need to get a calendar. _"And I don't plan to anytime soon, so everyone stop with the Pucktana crap." Santana couldn't help but notice Brittany's jaw clench.

Rachel dismissed the conversation, "Regardless, he's on probation; he can't get into fights. You see, we're planning on…"

"I can tell what you're planning, Berry. It's a flawless plan," she spat, her voice oozing with heavy sarcasm.

"Kurt needs our help. I don't know why you don't care…"

Santana cut her off, "Kurt does need our help. But what he doesn't need is _more_ violence. _It's a bad plan_."

"No, it's not!" Rachel cried out, her pride wounded, "Karofsky is one bully. And we have four boyfriends."

Santana crossed her arms. "I'd say three-and-a-half." And she didn't even regret it.

"Sam and I are not dating," Quinn pointed out. Santana was pretty damn sure that they were, unless Quinn had become more frigid and even calling someone her boyfriend was now too intimate for her. _Didn't they get Christian-engaged or something? I don't have time to fix your problems, Fabray, not when I've got to deal with this Artie nonsense._

"This will blow up your face, gnome."

"At least I'm doing something. Now if you'll excuse us. You have nothing to offer."

"You're on my list, midget. You all are."

As Santana turned, she caught Brittany looked forlorn. In reality, she would have liked to exclude Brittany from the threat, but didn't know how to single her out for a reprieve. She strode out of the room, barely making it to the bathroom before the tears came. She punched one of the stall doors, making it slam against the inside wall. She bit her fist as if it would stop the crying.

_How did everything go to shit? Brittany's dating Artie. Kurt's bullying problem got to the breaking point and the whole mess just snuck up on me. How can I be letting_ _homophobia at this school win?_ _Way to fail in every aspect of your life, Lopez. _

All Santana could hear in her head was Brittany's voice saying over and over, "I'm so turned on by you right now," to _him_.

_Hell no._

: : :

Santana's path took her by the principal's office. She wondered if Sylvester could help, or _would _help, since she seemed to advocate bullying by her Cheerios, but the office was already occupied, by a very traumatized-looking Kurt, along with Mr. Schue. Coach seemed actually sympathetic. Coach had the occasional soft spot. She'd liked Kurt when he was on the Cheerios. And she'd turned Becky Jackson into her loyal _aide-de-camp_. Regardless, it was apparent that Sylvester was already busy, and on their side. There was a two-front war being fought for Kurt, and Santana intended to lead a third charge. _The best one, too. _

On her way, she also strolled by Finn and Rachel in the midst of an argument. From the small snippet of conversation she overheard, she gathered it was about Finn refusing to help confront Karofsky. His reasoning seemed to be: "I can't help Kurt, because then Karofsky won't protect me on the field, and if he doesn't protect me, I'll get injured and won't be quarterback anymore, and if I'm not quarterback, I won't be popular, and if I'm not popular, I won't be able to help Kurt." In less than one week, Kurt would be his _stepbrother_, and he was falling victim to his own insecurities and backwards logic. It made Santana want to punch him in the teeth, to scream at him, and Berry seemed to be failing in doing just that, resorting to her angry possum face and pouting with self-superiority.

But Finn wasn't Santana's target; Karofsky was. She finally located him in the Arts & Humanities wing, joking around with Azimio and a couple of the other football players. Without a word, Santana grabbed him by the back of his collar, no doubt cutting off his oxygen, and dragged him into the nearest classroom. His buddies hoot-and-hollered, obviously misinterpreting Santana's intentions. She launched him towards the front row of desks, and he regained his footing just in time to take a seat on top of one. "Look, Lopez, I'm honored, but no thanks." After a second, he seemed to realize he needed an excuse, "It's nothing personal. You're really hot, but I know you're Puck's girl and that dude's _ripped_… and he just got out of jail. It ain't worth the risk."

Santana just glared at him during his spiel, secretly thankful that he hadn't tried to stick his tongue down her throat before she had a chance to talk to him. "We're not hooking up, you gorilla. This is about Kurt."

In an instant, Karofsky was back in a standing position and looking threatening. Santana chose to meet him with a withering glare, hoping it would be enough, since the football player easily had a buck-twenty on her.

"Look, glee club is full of first-string football players and top dog Cheerios. I don't know why everyone still thinks it's the bottom of the heap. I'm not saying you can't push your considerable weight around—hell, I do plenty of that myself—but I'm gonna kindly ask that you find another whipping boy besides Kurt. You can have Jewfro, or that creeper stoner kid who never wears pants, _anyone_ from the A/V club; don't care, but Hummel is off-limits."

"The little twink deserves it. He goes around flaunting his disgusting lifestyle."

If Santana thought she could get away with it, she would have relocated one of Karofsky's kneecaps into the base of his spine through the most obvious route. Without twitching an eyebrow, she remarked instead, "Okay, we'll do this the hard way. Either you leave Kurt alone, or I tell everybody you've got every STD known to man and sheep." Karofsky just rolled his eyes. "And that you tried to rape me."

Karofsky paled at the sheer offhandedness of her tone. After a few seconds, he sputtered out, "That won't work!"

Calmly, Santana explained, "Yeah, you're right. I'll eventually change my story, downgrade it to you standing a little too close to me, and saying things that were a little more ambiguous than I first claimed." She dramatically pressed a hand to her collar. "Then I'll graciously drop the charges when I realize you were being a pervert not a predator." Her softness disappeared. "But the stigma, that'll stick. You won't get another date as long as you go here, maybe even as long as you live in Lima, and that could be a while, let's be honest. Your buddies will all of a sudden be really awkward around you; they won't want to be seen with you. Suddenly, every girl in school will flinch every time you get within ten feet of them. You'll start getting called into the principal's office at least once a month because some well-meaning teacher was just a bit concerned by how you worded this one sentence in an essay you wrote. One day, you'll come to school and spray-painted across your locker will be a six-letter word that won't get scrubbed off for at least a day, ensuring that every person at school knows what you were wrongly—'wrongly'?—accused of." When the jock's knees finally began to tremble, Santana offered, "Or you give Kurt a break. It's almost too easy."

"Fine," he growled, as if the choice weren't so easy.

Santana shrugged and exited the room quickly, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, making sure the other football players saw her demeanor. She could hear them asking Karofsky what the deal was. He covered well, claiming, "Chicks. They're hot and cold."

: : :

"Yeah, they didn't include me either," Mercedes told Santana as they sat in the choir room, Mercedes flipping through a songbook and Santana filing her nails. "Kurt is my _boy_ and they didn't think I'd want to help him out even though it's _me_ who he comes to when it gets bad?"

"Eh, who needs them? They're just hiding behind their boyfriends. Us Lonely Hearts can get shit done on our own."

"Amen," Mercedes replied, going in for the fist-bump. Neither turned it into a firework.

"So, did I sense a hint of nefarious plotting in your voice?" Santana asked casually.

"Yeah, I stuffed Karofsky's tailpipe with Skittles. I figured he needed to learn to taste the rainbow."

"You never learn your lesson, do you? I approve. Yay." Another fist-bump. "He deserves to be saddled with seventeen grand in repair costs."

Mercedes giggled. "I had Kurt's dad take Sue's car into his shop. There's only seven thousand worth of damage and he's only going to charge me five."

"Karofsky won't get the discount."

"Karofsky won't be able to get _service_. He'll have to take it to the dealer and pay twice that."

"Fine by me. Your dad flip when he saw the estimate?"

"You better believe it. It's not like he can't afford it, but he's making me get a job to pay him back."

"So unfair. It's the duty of a parent to spoil their children. I'm pretty sure it's, like, in the Bible or something. You should get a job at Breadstix! If you smuggle out food for me, I might start actually talking to you in the hallways."

"I tried that. Turns out you gotta be eighteen to wait or serve. And I'm not exactly the type of girl they hire to be a hostess."

"That's Coach Sylvester's fault. She runs a human trafficking ring and sells off members of the JV squad who disappoint her."

"So, it turns out there's only one place in town that's hiring."

"Where?"

Two days previous, Terri Schuester was standing with Mercedes at Sheets 'N' Things, showing her how to fold a hand towel. "Can you try that?"

Mercedes just points to a row of perfectly folded towels. "Yeah, my mom's a Nazi when it comes to her linen closet."

"Excellent. You know, I've been meaning to hire another assistant assistant manager."

From the next aisle, Howard Bamboo whines, "Come on."

: : :

Dave Karofsky was getting ready to lift some weights in the locker room when Chang and Wheelchair Kid approached him, looking like they were seconds away from wetting themselves on the spot. Chang frowned at him in an attempt to look menacing. Dave's younger brother had a ferret that he was more frightened of. Abrams was scowling, too, as if he had much more use than as a crippled human shield for Mike.

"You're not picking on Kurt," the little one declared.

Dave rolled his eyes. _What is with this kid and his cloud of protector gnats? _

"We're serious!" Mike added, attempting to slam his locker closed, but not pushing hard enough to make a very loud sound. "This is a warning."

"From now on you're going to leave him alone."

Karofsky was amused that, even together, they weren't as menacing as the Mexican girl, who Dave figured he could topple with a good sneeze. And there was no reason why this should be; Mike looked _amazing_ without a shirt: all biceps and pecs and abs. With an ounce of confidence, he could be a brutal opponent in a fight. And while the nerdy one looked like he could be broken in half (and perhaps had been), his performance on the field showed that he could turn his chair into a honest-to-God battering ram.

Mike walked around in front of Artie and puffed up his chest, like a pigeon, and Karofsky was already imagining how the lanky boy would topple over the wheelchair and its occupant with a medium-force push. Then Blondie came up from the other side. Much like Chang, he had nothing to be ashamed of under his jersey. Dave found himself on the precipice of a fair fight, and he couldn't deny the thrill he got once his adrenaline started pumping. He glared at Mike, whose pupils shrank; the Asian boy wouldn't be throwing the first punch. Evans looked ready for a scuffle, and Karofsky figured he could give the kid a fat lip without anyone noticing. But then there was Puckerman hovering the background. His muscled body—_I guess it's true what they say about the homos and their bodies_—was relaxed but his eyes were burning. If he joined the fight, Karofsky would be in trouble, except for the fact he was surrounded by allies.

It didn't happen, though. Maybe Dave wasn't in the mood for a broken nose or a bruised spleen. Maybe Lopez's threat was still fresh in his mind. Maybe he remembered that Coach Beiste was the glee club's fruity director's fag hag. Maybe that tearful expression on Kurt's face wasn't getting his blood plumping like he thought it would. He huffed resignedly. "Messing with that faggot ain't worth it," he remarked and extracted himself from the box that Sam and Mike had put him in. "Pardon me, ladies."

After exiting the locker room to a roomful of confused faces, Dave turned the corner and set eyes on Hummel at his locker. It was time for him to deal with this situation once and for all.

: : :

Kurt was considering redecorating his locker door with pictures cut from his dad's discarded travel brochures when he saw Karofsky stomping toward him out of the corner of his eye. He visibly flinched, awaiting the attack. Instead, the football player threw something at him, missing his face completely, and crashing loudly into his locker.

Aggressively, the stocky football player declared, "Hummel, things are about to change between us. I'm concerned slamming you into lockers might infect me with your gay diseases. So, here's the deal: you are to stay away from me at all times. If you're walking down the hall and you see me, you take the long way. If you're at your locker and I come strolling by, you have three seconds to get what you need and make it the staircase before I lay eyes on your lady-like self. Is that clear?"

Kurt studied the bully for a moment, which was a moment too long for Karofsky.

"If you're lusting after me right now, Hummel, AIDS be damned, I will find a way to fit your puny body in that locker. Now, I repeat, do we have an understanding?"

"Yes," Kurt replied immediately.

"Good. This plan goes into effect in thirty seconds." He walked off, but turned around to add, "One more thing: you tell that dyke Lopez that the deal goes for her too." Another step. "And if you dare sic the rainbow patrol on me in the locker room again, I will crush all of their faces in so badly their mamas won't be able to recognize them. Nor will yours. Spread the word." Kurt bunched the fabric of his slacks in his fists, knowing Karofsky didn't care enough about him to know why the insult hurt so much.

But after a moment, he calmed. His mind was relaxed enough to scold himself for wrinkling his pants.

After a full minute, he was so relaxed, it was as if he'd been carrying a backpack full of brick around all this time and had finally removed it, and now he could float to the ceiling if he breathed in deeply enough. He was shaking with the inability to fully accept what had just happened, as if he would wake up at any moment and this miracle would vanish.

And what made it all the more unbelievable was who his savior seemed to be.

His hands latched onto his locker door, as if his legs might give out any minute. He reached into his locker and pulled out the object Karofsky had launched at him. It was the wedding cake centerpiece. It was pretty scratched up, but nothing he couldn't fix in an hour with supplies from the art room.

: : :

Kurt, still dazed, stumbled into the choir room, where he was immediately accosted by Rachel, who was practically bouncing. "Kurt, the boys got Karofsky to lay off you! They confronted him in the locker room and he said… what did he say?"

"I'd rather not repeat it," Sam remarked, who had Quinn fawning over him. Likewise, Brittany and Tina were perched upon Artie and Mike.

"No, I know. I ran into him." Everyone gasped in fear. "No, no. It's okay. He… I think he called a truce."

"Oh, boys!" Rachel gushed, "You all were so brave."

Kurt noticed that Finn was sheepishly sitting in the corner, his head bowed guiltily. He asked, "So, Finn, I'd rather not listen to your girlfriend's voice when she's this excited. How'd it go down?"

Finn mumbled, "Sorry, I wasn't there. I was in the weight room. I guess I forgot when we planned to do it."

Kurt watched Rachel's lip actually snarl. His eyes scanned the room. Mercedes was on the back row, beaming with joy. Santana was there, too, filing her nails and not making eye contact.

"Well, guys," he announced, "I guess I owe you a big thank-you. And Santana…" The Latina's eyes briefly flitted up before returning to her nails. "I supposed I should thank you, too. Just a heads up, you should probably avoid Karofsky in the hallways."

"That's been my M.O. for three years now," she quipped nonchalantly, "Don't need it in writing."

"Wait, what did _she_ do?" Rachel asked incredulously.

"Nothing much," Santana replied.

"You're too modest," Kurt noted.

"Look, you have no idea what I did or didn't do. I'm not saying I didn't do something; I'm just saying, if I did, it was more for my own benefit than yours."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"You'd be surprised," she replied, looking up and making eye contact for longer than was typical of her, before turning them down to survey her handiwork.

When Kurt's eyes scanned the room again, he noticed Brittany had shifted her glance and was watching Santana with curiosity. Everything fell into place for Kurt.

Mr. Schue walked into the room, announcing it was time to narrow down their set list for Sectionals. "As happy as I am that you all have been working so hard for the Hudson-Hummel wedding, you're not getting a minute of practice time until we get the list down to at most two choices for each category. We're allowed three songs: the intro song which we usually reserve for a duet, then our ballad, and finally our closing group number." Two dozen song titles were scribbled on the white board and narrowed down with minimal effort. Rachel looked less than fully pleased, but seemed happy enough with the selections. Kurt debated less than usual and Santana remained silent for the entire discussion. Before long, Mr. Schue proudly declared the club had the floor to practice "Marry You".

Santana's plan to avoid Puck at all costs was complicated since they were paired up for the wedding march. Most of the practice was spent swatting his hands away from her private zones. He balked at her attempts to teach him her own personal little jig. And worst of all, Brittany smiled at them, like she thought this was their own private way of badass-flirting.

During a water break, Brittany bounced over to her. "How's it going with Puck?"

"I'm about ten seconds away from stabbing him in the junk. How'd I get paired up with him anyway?"

Brittany frowned. "Oh, Rachel and I did that. You were talking about you hadn't seen him much lately earlier, so I thought maybe you'd want him to be your dance partner."

"Why would you think that? I said I was trying to _avoid_ him. Ever since Fabray got betrothed to Sam-I-Am, Puck's been like a dog in heat now that his brood mare has chosen another stud. And after what happened last week…" Her face was wracked with pain. "Brittany, I can't do that again. I'll slit my wrists first."

Brittany looked like her own wrists had been slit. "I'm sorry. We all used to be friends: you and me and Puck and Quinn and Finn."

"Puck's not my friend anymore. All he cares about is getting me into bed."

"I'm your friend and I like you in bed."

"Th-that's different."

"It's not like I thought you had lovey feelings for him, but I thought you liked him enough to hang out with him. I thought it would help."

"Help _what_?"

"Nothing," she replied, "it's stupid."

"This whole thing is stupid," Santana muttered mostly to herself. Seeing Brittany near tears, she said, "Brittany, don't feel bad about this. I can handle Puck. And it's not your fault. Process of elimination says I was going to end up with him during the song anyway. Everyone else is in a relationship and Kurt has his Will & Grace thing with Mercedes, so..." If this assuaged Brittany's misery, she didn't show it. And Santana knew her well enough to know that if she didn't show something, she wasn't feeling it. "Brittany, maybe you shouldn't come over tonight after all. I don't think I'm feeling very good." Brittany nodded, reading between the lines. After they parted, Santana threw her streamer to the ground. It failed to make her feel better.

The rest of practice dragged on, since Kurt was a perfectionist and wanted the wedding dance march to go smoothly. At the end of practice, Santana quickly made her exit, needing some space from her best friend and especially from Puck. Brittany muttered an excuse to Artie and ran after her, but she was beat by Kurt, who asked her if she wanted to stop by his house. "I've got this great idea for this hairdo you can wear to the wedding." Surprisingly, Santana immediately agreed.

Brittany turned around and took her seat by Artie, who seemed surprised that she returned. "So, Artie, are you busy tonight? Do you want to come to my house and watch a movie?"

Flustered, Artie agreed immediately. He couldn't be sure, but Puck had mentioned what had happened when Brittany had asked _him_ to come over to her house to watch a movie freshman year. "I still have to cross my legs every time my little sister puts on _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_."

* * *

A/N: I really hate it when authors apologize for the language of their characters, and I'm absolutely not doing that, but I do have to explain something about my style for those who don't pick up on it. Even when I write in the third person, the writing of the chapter takes on the tone and mentality of the point-of-view character. There is no narrator, and he's certainly not me, and any slurs I use, especially outside of the actual dialogue, are merely being borrowed from the minds of the characters.

And I find exposition in these author's notes to be tacky, but I will answer questions from my reviewers. To start off from a question from Chapter 1, yes, Santana has gone back and taken over her body. The actual mechanism really isn't that important, but I suppose it's pretty much astral projection. Why doesn't Santana just tell Brittany she loves her? Because it doesn't help her cause; to get the happy ending she wants, she needs Brittany to choose her. Also, her trance will be broken by the emotional impact of being rejected, rendering the entire exercise futile. The other questions I won't answer because they'll all be answered within the next few chapters; I know this because I've already started them.


	8. Lesbotana

Doing It Right: Chapter 8  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. As the distance between her and Brittany grows, Santana finds herself growing closing to her friends.  
Spoilers: 2x08 "Furt"

A/N: It seems like there's an inverse relationship between how much happens in a chapter and the general quality of my writing. Consequently, there's a lot of development in the chapter, but I'm unimpressed with the general flow.

* * *

Chapter 8: Lesbotana

Santana looked at Kurt's bathroom sink. He had a more extensive collection of beauty products than she did, and that was saying a lot. "So, I heard you went and spied on the boys' school that's our competition for next week?"

"It's not a gay boys' school, Santana."

"I didn't say it was. Like, literally, I did not use the word 'gay'."

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry. But, yeah, I did. That was like two weeks ago."

"Really?" Santana covered, "These weeks are just flying by."

"Anyway, they're good, the Warblers; that's the name of Dalton's a cappella group."

"That's cheesy."

"They've got this bird mascot. And no one at school thinks they're cheesy. The lead guy says they're rock stars."

"And Berry's convinced she's the prima donna of McKinley High."

"Still, no one slushies them."

"Do they even have football players?"

"I refuse to argue with you, but I shall not state whether it's due to your logic being valid."

"Just keepin' it real."

"They caught me engaged in espionage."

"Uh-oh. What they'd do to you?"

"Nothing. They just talked to me over coffee. They've got a no-bullying policy there."

"Sounds like a gay kid's paradise. No bullying. A school full of boys."

"A school full of boys would also be a _girl's_ paradise."

Santana just replied with a _mm-hmm_. "You thinking about abandoning us to go to Hogwarts?"

"I don't see why I would. Karofsky agreed to move on from me. I've got some loyalty to New Directions, you know."

"I guess I figured you'd be a sucker for a sly guy in uniform."

Kurt blushed. "Look, I may or may not have met a very cute boy who admitted to being gay. That doesn't mean I'm going to pull a Jesse St. James. I haven't even talked to him since."

This didn't flush with Santana's memories. "This guy who may or may not exist? Why not?" she asked, a little too interested.

"I didn't get his number." Kurt shuffled his feet, looking through his concealer, as if he would have any for Santana's skin tone.

"I know that look. You wish you had. You've been thinking about him, haven't you?"

Kurt immediately began to gush, "He had the voice of an angel. God, I so want him to be my first."

Santana started clapping. "Whoo-hoo, look at you, havin' sexy thoughts."

"I meant my first kiss."

"Weak," Santana dismissed. "Wait, I know for a fact you've been kissed before. Me and Britts share everything."

"So I've heard," Kurt noted coyly, but continued before Santana could catch his tone, "I meant my first _real_ kiss, with a boy. But I'm just fantasizing. He'd never go for me. He was so… comfortable with his sexuality, like a Gay Yoda. And I was… so awkward. I asked if the entire club was gay. He probably never wants to see a spazz like me again."

"Aw, poor baby."

"You're making fun of me!"

"A little. It's kind of what I do."

"Yeah, anyway, my gaydar sucks. I thought Sam was gay, you know."

Santana shrugged. "I can see that. Boy's got lips like Angelina Jolie." She shivered, and Kurt wondered if he was meant to see that. She admitted, "I probably should have told you; we were paired up for a chem assignment first week of school. He didn't make eye contact with me once."

A warm smile spread across Kurt's face. "Out of all the girls in glee club, you're the last I ever expecting to do girl talk with. I thought me and Finn would have these conversation before the two of us would."

"Yeah, I've been surprising everybody this year. Truthfully, I have no problem with you. You're the one guy I can count on not to peek up my skirt. Plus, Brittany thinks you're awesome. And you totally won us the cheerleading nationals last year. Me being mean to you, that's just me; old habits die hard. And frankly, we have more in common than you'd expect."

Kurt gave himself an encouraging breath. "I'm probably going to regret broaching this topic, give the gossamer state of our fledging friendship, but I kind am getting some vibes..."

Santana cut him off, "I am." Off his reaction, she added listlessly, "Kinda gay? Yep."

"Wow. That was terrifyingly easy... and terrifying. I _knew_ I wasn't reading too much into your duet with Brittany. Or how you were all over her during _Rocky_ dress rehearsals. And that remark that getting Karofsky off my back was for your benefit. And that unguarded coyness about Angie. Seriously, you're not even trying."

"Look, I've perfected the art of being whoever everyone else wants me to be. It's why I stopping painting in sixth grade. It's why I joined the pom squad instead of choir in middle school. This day and age, it doesn't really matter if a girl finds others girls attractive; in fact, it's how you choose your friends, your enemies, and your victims. The rules are _don't fall for a girl_, so I don't tell anyone I have."

Kurt ventured, "Again, shoddy gaydar, but Brittany strikes me as pretty bi, if not completely pan." He physically retreated, eyeing Santana carefully.

She remained calm. "She totally is. Wouldn't know how to hide it if she knew she ought to."

"You've got the girl eating out of the palm of your hand. You want that fruit, you've just to pluck it."

"Foolishly, I thought I could just tease it down into my hand. I'm a better apple thief than an apple picker."

"We're seriously straining this metaphor."

"I'll make her mine. I just have to figure out how."

"_Bonne chance._ But I suspect you're not ignoring the drawbacks of coming out?"

"Not at all. I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

"Well, regardless, it's nice to finally find someone else in my boat. So, you wanna hear my ideas for your bridesmaid hair and makeup? Let's show Brittany what she's missing."

Santana smiled and nodded. "Okay, but I'm not getting a new weave for this. My dad somehow stumbled upon an itemized credit card statement, and let's just say if my mom or I set foot in a salon in any major city before 2016, a Russian convent will be getting two new recruits."

Kurt began to play with Santana's hair. "So, did you hear who else is getting hitched this weekend? I'll give you a hint; no less than four track suits were sacrificed for the cause."

"No way," Santana feigned, "I can't imagine anyone willing to marry Coach except maybe the clone of herself she keeps referring to."

"You're very close."

: : :

_Does Kurt even do schoolwork? _

Somehow he'd put together a simple but elegant wedding inside of a week. In addition to his role as wedding planner, he was acting as the makeup artist and hair stylist. While the girls for the most part styled each other's hair and makeup, Kurt had reserved his talents for the bride, but had declared that Santana's hair was also under his purview. At the moment, Santana was enjoying the closeness as Brittany did her eyeliner. She trusted no one else with the task; Brittany had the steadiest hand and least reason to "accidentally" poke her in the eye.

Brittany could do relatively few things at the same time, but talking and doing make-up was one of them. "I watched _The Sound of Music_ last night. There was a wedding in it, too. But the groom forgot his tuxedo, so he wore a hotel uniform."

"The dad in _Sound of Music_ was a soldier or something. It was probably his military uniform."

"Oh, Kurt's dad isn't going to wear one, is he? If he loses his tux?"

"No, I'm sure Kurt has three extra tuxedos stashed in hidden compartments. Plus, Finn's dad was a soldier, so it'd be like really disrespectful."

"I didn't know that."

"Kurt mentioned it me the other night. He died during Desert Storm."

"Like the one in _Aladdin_?"

"It was a war. I'll fill you in later."

Brittany quietly asked, "Is Kurt… your new boyfriend?"

To stop her eye from being poked out, Santana pushed Brittany's hand away as she leaned forward on the makeup table with heaving laughter, gathering the attention of the other ladies in the room. "No, Kurt and I are just friends now. Trust me, the one thing I bring to a relationship is the one thing Kurt has no want of."

"It's sad."

"What is?"

"You keep fixing people's relationships and putting people together, but you don't have anyone."

It wasn't like her mascara wasn't waterproof, but all the same Santana forced her tears back. "I'm working on me."

"Oh… good luck with that."

Santana knew she shouldn't read too much into Brittany's expression. Then she thought maybe that was exactly what she ought to do. Making sure to lock eyes with Brittany in the mirror, she remarked "I've got my eye on somebody. I haven't given up yet."

Kurt arrived just in time to shoo off Brittany. He peered into the mirror. "Flawless, Brittany. I need you on Rachel's eyes, on the double. I love you, 'Cedes, but I'm relegating you to lipstick," he called back. "Did I come at the right time?"

"Yes and no."

He pulled a plastic bag from a fanny pack, filled with more hair accessories than should have fit in the garment. "Let's make you twice as foxy, _suave dama_. You've got an apple to steal."

: : :

_It's a beautiful night,  
We're looking for something dumb to do,  
Hey baby,  
I think I want to marry you_

Their wedding dance went well, and no one in the congregation seemed to realize they were singing about drunken mistakes. Mr. Schue had a bizarre sense of song selection. Maybe he was projecting his own failed marriage, or the impeding nuptials of a certain guidance counselor and her fine dentist boyfriend (which he couldn't actually know about the way Santana did). Santana almost tripped over her feet during her and Brittany's streamer dance when she noticed one good decision he had made: Holly Holiday was sitting next to him in the pew. Also, Brittany could make the easiest of dances looking like a fairy's ballet, and it was terribly distracting.

Mr. Hummel and Mrs. Hudson did their own dorky parents dances down the aisle and Santana honestly envied them. And when they were standing at the altar, it was disconcerting to say the least to be standing beside Brittany, flowers in her hand, while a minister talked about love and commitment, while thoughts she couldn't suppress bounced around her head: mentally pictures her own wedding, what dress she would wear, what dress Brittany would wear, whether it was appropriate that they both wore dresses and that there was no way either of them was wearing the tuxedo but maybe she would wear a jacket? _ I need to start making female friends, because I literally have no one to be my maid of honor. _

What finally broke her out of her reverie were the minister's words, which made the same pains echo in her heart that had the first time she'd heard this speech, not helped at all by Finn and Rachel's sappy glances. Brittany had nodded off during the prayer, so luckily she didn't have to suffer through she and Artie doing the same. She did notice a glimmering on Quinn's finger, so apparently Sam had passed the first test and had gotten Quinn comfortable with the term "girlfriend." Her imagination wandered as she imagined Sam as a video game character, beating levels in a quest; she suspected Sam might have similar fantasies.

Unlike before, she'd not said anything to Finn about telling Rachel about them, which hilariously was the opposite of what she had been planning to do for awhile. Honestly, she had just been avoiding that room altogether. His tie had been askew when the wedding first started, of course, and Kurt had put the ceremony on hold just to have Rachel adjust it; his eyes clearly stating he didn't think she'd done a good enough job, but he was unwilling to fix it himself.

Santana grabbed Brittany's hand when the minister had said, "You may now kiss the bride." Maybe she shouldn't have, but she did. Brittany didn't pull her hand away. Maybe she just thought Santana's inner romantic was coming out. Better yet, maybe she didn't care why.

: : :

At the reception, Finn stood on the dance floor, explaining into a microphone about how the next song was dedicated to his mother. Dutifully, Santana got up and took Puck's hand for the choreographed dance the club had been practicing. She noticed that Kurt and Mercedes had also gotten up without question. It wasn't a surprise; Kurt had been there when everyone had practiced their partner dancing, and Santana was hoping that somehow Finn would rededicate the song to Kurt, but he didn't.

_Oh her eyes, her eyes  
Make the stars look like they're not shining  
Her hair, her hair  
Falls perfectly without her trying  
She's so beautiful  
And I tell her every day_

He was obviously rededicating to Rachel at this point, since he sung most of the second verse to her, and Santana thought it was only appropriate before he started singing to his mother about kissing lips all day and sexy that are "so sexy." The newly-minted Mrs. Hummel seemed rather charmed regardless. The boy's normal klutziness had apparently been whipped out of him for one night, and Kurt looked on with pride, so Santana presumed that with Karofsky out of the way and not being assaulted by Mr. Hummel in broad daylight, Kurt had gotten the chance to train Finn.

After the club returned to their seats and the next song queued up, Brittany and Artie started grooving in their seats one table over from Santana, who never felt more stuck. Their relationship was new; it would be easy to shatter with three words, but they were the three words she was prohibited from uttering. Showing Brittany affection, even overwhelming her with it, hadn't been enough to keep her out of Artie' arms, so it certainly wouldn't take her out of them, either. It hurt too much to make love since the revelation of their relationship, and Brittany had been restricted to cuddles and necking since the mismatched pair went public; Santana wasn't even sure if she noticed the change.

_Since planning has utterly backfired, let's see how not planning works out_, she thought bitterly to herself. In blind desperation, she got up from her chair and made her way toward Brittany with no clue in the world what she was going to say or do next, or what the consequences would be. _Maybe a little spontaneity is what Brittany's looking for. _

She was stopped when Puck intruded on her personal space, putting himself between her and her target. "So, I've got this tradition at weddings where I always hook up with a bridesmaid. You haven't come calling in almost two weeks, and I haven't seen you on any other guy's arm, so I know your ovaries must be about to combust. What do you say?"

"Go to hell, Puck. I don't have time for this."

He frowned. "What's gotten into you?"

"Are you deaf? I am not above making a scene at this wedding."

"Santana, I know you pretty well, and I can tell you're about to go off the deep end. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't serve you the Puckerman blue plate special to calm you down."

Brittany and Artie were kissing. _How's that for a reason? _Over Puck's wide shoulders, Santana could see them sucking face.

"I'm gay," Santana remarked passively at Puck.

_Well, __**that**__ was certainly spontaneous. _

"Whoa. At least give me an _original _lie, Lopez."

She locked eyes with him. "Puck, I'm gay," she hissed.

"Whoa, whoa." All of the wickedness disappeared from Puck's face and he placed his hands on her shoulders so that she would face him. "Lopez, you're not talking out of your ass here, are you? You're _gay_? That's heavy, man."

"Apparently not heavy enough for you to stop trying to cop a feel."

Puck released her shoulders. "Look, Santana, you won't get shit about this from me. I remember a time, before we started doing the horizontal tango, that we were what was approaching friends."

Santana hadn't seen this side of Puck in a while. "Thanks."

"So, is this about Brittany?" he asked astutely, "You always did have exceptional taste. Look, I'll keep this on the D.L. for you, okay?"

Santana shrugged and shook her head. "I can't pretend anymore. Even if I don't say anything, glee's gonna catch on pretty quick. And the rest of the school… damn."

"I got your back, okay? Not that I don't prefer your front."

"You never change, do you? It's cool."

"So, save me a dance. You'll get to see Noah Puckerman acting like a gentleman."

"For the first time in his life? That's a monumental occasion. I'm honored that you're sharing that with me."

"Stay spicy, _tortillera_." He punched her in the arm, barely a tap. _Of course he would know that word. _

Santana sat back down, too drained to do anything else. Like an elf, Kurt appeared beside her, crossing one leg over the other as to gracefully turn to talk to her. "So, we're telling people now?"

"It's just Puck. If nothing else, it saves me from his bad pickup lines."

Kurt nodded, tilting his head toward Artie and Brittany, who were dancing on the floor, Brittany in Artie's lap. "I give 'em a month."

"You'd be surprised."

"I'd give them half an hour if you told her how you feel."

"Words would only confuse her," Santana lied. "I don't care how clueless she seems; she knows how I feel. I thought I knew how she felt, too, but she chose Artie, and I wish I knew why."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I've got to protect my heart. No more pinkies or playing with each other's hair. No snuggly movie nights or sleepovers in our underwear."

"Honestly, your life is so much like a porno, it's cliché."

"The rules of our relationship are going to change, or I might just shatter into a million pieces."

"It could work. Absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Except when distance makes the heart go yonder." She turned to Kurt. "But enough about my disastrous love life. How's it going with you?"

"Love life? Nonexistent. But familial life is okay."

"You got a new mom. The once-Mrs. Hudson is a pretty cool lady for a mother. Plus, prize at the bottom of the Cracker Jack box, new stepbrother."

"For what he's worth."

"He means well."

"That's _all_ he does well. He cornered me a minute ago. He promised to be a better brother."

"That's a start."

"Finn's a people pleaser. When it comes down to me or the crowd, it's a tossup. I know he knows how to do right by me. And I know that he wants to. But I'll believe it when I see it."

"He gets it right eventually. If not for my disappearing appreciation for man-parts, I might actually envy Berry. He's a standup guy."

"I know. I really do. I'll just be glad when it happens sooner than later."

Their attention was turned to Mr. Schue's crooning of Michael Bublé's "Sway". Puck requested his dance and Santana acquiesced. For the first time in three years, they chatted while maintaining a perfectly respectable distance.

"…seriously, is it that hard to program a half-decent _Final Fantasy_ anymore? I'm gonna go kick some Japanese ass."

"So, if there was a trace of heterosexuality left in me, you just killed it. God, you need to befriend Sam. Though I completely understand why you haven't."

"You haven't been paying attention, Lopez. Evans and I are tight now."

"I _hadn't_ noticed. I've been preoccupied with other things." Puck spun them in place and caught a glimpse of what Santana was looking at over his shoulder. It was no surprise when he saw the flash on long blond hair.

"I'm confused. You had a sing-off against Mercedes over me and you don't even _like_ me, but somehow Artie hasn't been reduced to olive-sized bits. How is Lesbotana more of a pussy than Hotana?"

"Careful, Puckerman, I wouldn't mind using _all_ of your olive-sized bits to garnish martinis. And I'll have you know I _tried_. I smothered that girl with affection. You'd think she was with him because _she_ needed a wheelchair after what I'd done with her."

Puck hummed appreciatively. "Do elaborate."

"First you elaborate how you became chummy with the guy who stole your girl despite having even more ridiculous hair than you."

"Well, for one, Fabray is the one topic that's off-limits between us. And there's a reason Quinn and I aren't… me and Quinn. Did I love her? Yeah. Do I still? Maybe, probably. But do I want to be with her? No. At least not right now. I had to give up my flesh and blood because of her. Now was I ready to be a dad? No way. But giving up Beth? I bet that's gotta be what getting shot feels like. I didn't see Quinn once over the summer, and it's the only reason I can still walk the same hallways as her. But actually trying to date her? To touch her? Kiss her? Hold her? I can't do it without seeing that little bundle in a hospital bassinet in Columbus. It'd frickin' break me. You don't know the pain."

"No, I don't, but I do know a little bit about being hurt."

After a silent nod, Puck was quick to change the subject. "Did you see that Mr. Schue brought the hot sub as his date?"

"I did. I'm the one who played Cupid, by the way."

"Goddammit, Lopez, it's like you've been possessed by something. Or, you know, in your case, exorcised."

The song was over, so Puck escorted Santana back to the table while Mr. Schue took a break, finding his way to a table where Ms. Holiday was sitting with an expectant grin. Santana was watching them chat shyly when Brittany took a seat beside her, and Puck hopped up, making an excuse to hit on some woman across the room.

Brittany watched him go. "Sorry about Puck. He's a dog."

Making her utter lack of jealousy clear, Santana remarked, "A dog with good taste. Look at that tree he's barking up."

Brittany took a moment appreciate the gorgeous, 20-something brunette Puck had seated himself next to. "She's not as pretty as you." When Santana didn't respond, Brittany turned her attention to where Mr. Schue and Ms. Holiday were seated. She nudged Santana and drew her eyes in that direction. "You're good."

"Obviously. Oh, you mean Schuester and Holiday? Yeah, I didn't even have to work so hard."

"We should go tell them how happy we are that they're dating and having sex!" Brittany jumped up and Santana grabbed her wrist, regretting making contact so soon after resolving not to.

"Uh-uh, we've got to be subtle about this. Follow my lead." Santana strolled over to the couple at a none-too-leisurely pace. "Miss Holiday?" she proclaimed with overdone surprise.

Mr. Schue blushed several shades of red, before hastily explaining, "Kurt gave me the option of a plus-one, and I thought Holly deserved a night out for, you know, helping the glee club out."

Santana looked utterly impressed, but her frown was no match for the blond substitute's.

Santana wasn't going to let that stand. "I love your dress. It looks really nice on you." Ms. Holiday was wearing a fitted gown in deep purple, shoulderless, with a slit that came all the way up to the bottom of her hip, and a sweetheart neckline which did her several favors.

Brittany couldn't resist commenting on it. "It shows off your boobs really well." She stared unabashedly at the neckline before thinking better of it and retraining her focus to Santana's neckline. Santana cleared her throat, more to dispel the tension than to pull Brittany's eyes in a more appropriate direction.

Mr. Schue managed to redeem himself. "I'm not going to lie; I suspect that I probably have made a few bachelors jealous. You do look quite stunning, Holly."

Ms. Holiday smiled. "That's what I like to hear. A girl has to work hard to pull this off."

Santana felt she might as well push it. "So, I haven't seen you back in a while, Ms. H. If you know anything about astronomy, I wouldn't mind giving Ms. Castle strep throat."

"That's very kind of you," the substitute responded, sounding a little like she was taking Santana's offer to heart. "But I'll be in Dublin for the next eight weeks. Ms. Sylvester got me an intensive work-study program down at some girls' school." She took a moment to reminisce. "Mmm, takes me back. Anyway, a spot opened up when some poor soul got caught in a freak Segway accident. And after I get back, I'll have a probationary teaching license and she said she'd even keep my application on file in case any positions open up."

"Fingers crossed," Santana offered.

"I thought you said we weren't going to talk about sex things," Brittany questioned aloud.

"Have a lovely evening, you two," Santana noted, walking away briskly with Brittany on her heels.

No sooner than they plopped down in their seats did Puck place himself in the chair opposite of them. "You're not going to believe my luck, ladies. I was chatting up that dame. I'm on top of my game. Turns out she's Kurt's mom's baby sister. Guess why I struck out?"

_Okay, so Puck just earned the privilege of being my maid of honor. He'll look absolutely dashing in Persian blue satin._

* * *

A/N: The reason why I didn't update for several days (and why you've gotten three chapter updates in three days) is because I had a wedding over the weekend and was staying at a hotel where I'd have to pay for Internet access. Between the plane rides and downtime at the hotel, I had plenty of time to work on this series, both polishing up these past few chapters and plotting out the rest of the storylines. That added about 50 percent more material. I also decided something about the series and I expect you'll all be very happy with the revelation I had.

Except you'll be finding out about it in Chapter 17.


	9. New Inspirations

Doing It Right: Chapter 9  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes concerning her relationship with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. Even though she's losing the battle, she's not ready to give up.  
Spoilers: 2x09 "Special Education"

A/N: Nine thousand points to **Salacious Vixen** for identifying Puck's strike-out in the previous chapter.

* * *

Chapter 9: New Inspirations

Santana didn't jump all weekend and she didn't know who to blame. When she was making honest progress with her relationship with Brittany, she had to savor every moment, but now that she was losing ground, the universe seemed content to allow her to stew in her own misery. And then it threw the blonde in her path just for spite.

"Santana, did I do something wrong? You usually text me on Sundays so we can go to the park and jog and feed the ducks and steal the swings from little kids."

When she put her hand on Santana's arm, the brunette flinched away. "No, B, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just going through something right now. I'm a little weird about being touched, too."

"Oh, you can totally talk to me about it. I always talk about my problems with you."

"Thanks, Brittany. You're my BFF and you always will be, but this is just a problem I can't talk to you about. But, don't worry; Kurt's been helping me out. And so has Puck."

"Puck," Brittany repeated darkly, "You told me the other day you didn't like to be around him. You were mad at me for making you dance with him."

"I wasn't mad. You're right all along; the two of us can be friends."

Brittany's face remained neutral. "Okay," she fiddled with her hands, trying to figure how to comfort Santana without touching her. "See you in glee. I'm going to eat lunch with Artie in the band room."

She walked away and Santana turned back to her locker, fighting back the ache in her chest. The universe wasn't done with her yet, though, as it then threw Jacob Ben Israel at her. He shoved a microphone, which was not attached to any cord, in her face. "My sources tell me that the infamous Santana Lopez is actually a closeted lesbian. Care to comment?"

"No."

Jacob seemed wholly confused. "You don't care to comment?"

"I don't have time for this, Jewfro. Go harass Donna Tompkins about her sexuality."

Jacob furrowed his brow. "Tompkins _is_ gay. She was having an affair with Coach Costa and had to transfer to Crawford Country. That was like a month ago."

_Okay, __**that**__ didn't happen before. And how did I not hear about this?_

"Look, Jacob, I said 'No comment', now can I get on with my life? It's taco day in the cafeteria."

"Santana, 'no comment' is paramount to a confession. Unless you give me something, I'm running with this story," he warned more than he threatened.

"No one believes your stupid blog anyway."

Jacob stood in shock for a moment. He then pulled out his cell phone and all but screamed into it, "Kill every story. We're putting out a special edition and there's only one story we're running, and I want it off the presses before the end of lunch." After a moment, he added, "I don't care if it's stupid taco day. I will get you all the tacos you can eat if you get the edition out on time. Of course I won't get you pork. You're lucky I'm willing to compromise with ground beef with cheese."

: : :

Santana walked into the guidance counselor's office. Miss Pillsbury's already large eyes widened.

"Calm down, Miss P. I just came to talk."

"Oh, okay then. Please have a seat, Santana. What can I help you with?"

"Did Kurt ever… come talk to you about… being gay?"

"I'm not exactly sure what you mean."

"Like, did he ever come in to ask about, you know, coming out, or how to deal with homophobia?"

"Well, I'm not at liberty to discuss a student's sessions. Can I ask what this is about?"

"I have a friend." She immediately realized how incriminating that was, especially for her. "She's on the Cheerios. Anyway, she thinks she might be gay and she wanted to know if there's anything you could do for her."

Miss Pillsbury was studying her, like she was trying to figure out if Santana was being honest. On the one hand, Santana wasn't exactly hiding her questions well. On the other hand, Santana's sole friend, who was a Cheerio, seemed to be sexually fluid, so it wasn't out of the question that she may have been referring to a certain blonde. "Well, after all the stuff with Kurt started, I did send for some more pamphlets that you can have… to share with your friend."

She pulled some pamphlets out of a desk drawer; titles included: _I Like Watching Myself in the Mirror_, _How Do I Know If It's Just the Vodka Talking?_, _Bears and Bare-Backing: Come See the Wild West Show in Golden, Colorado!_, and half a dozen more. There was also a brochure for a wedding chapel in Las Vegas.

"Miss P, what's this for? I didn't think Nevada allowed gay marriage."

"Oh, sorry, that's one of mine."

"You and the tasty dentist tying the knot?"

"We'll be making a trip to Las Vegas. Given the fiasco that was my wedding to Ken Tanaka last year, Carl and I are seriously discussing eloping."

"Well, congratulations to you. You're going to make a lot of Lima bachelorettes very unhappy, not the least of all me. Thanks for these. I'll see you around, Miss P."

Emma perked up in surprise. "Oh, you're very welcome, Santana. Do come by if you need to talk. About your friend," she added, halfway between sincere and sly. Once the girl was gone, she noticed that Santana had dropped one of the pamphlets behind: _He's Going to Put What Where?: Ten Myths about Sexual Dysfunction_. If the rumors were true, Santana absolutely did not need that pamphlet. After the bell had rung and Emma was sure no one was looking, she unfolded the brochure for a peek.

: : :

Four hours and zero time jumps later, Santana was walking into glee while mentally taking inventory of her life. The moment she set foot in the room, ten pairs of eyes locked on her.

"What's up? Is there something on my face? 'Cause if you're thinking it's a black eye, you're probably mistaking it with what's about to be on _your_ faces."

The threat was received as seriously as it was issued. Quinn walked straight up to her and asked in her matronly tone, "Santana, where is Jacob Ben Israel?"

"Probably in his little journalism spider hole, claiming Ms. Castle is a hermaphrodite."

"He's been missing since fifth period," Finn explained.

"It's not like we don't know what he did," Tina said.

"What did he do?" Santana asked.

Quinn's eyes lowered. "Have _you_ been in a hole? He put out an issue of the _Olympian _claiming you were a lesbian. And he put it on his blog. And he had Lauren Zizes hack the school's Twitter account and she's been spamming it with the headline… and a link to a website that is definitely not allowed by the district's firewall."

"So what? He can put rumors out all day. Doesn't mean anyone believes them."

"Did you hit your head? This is high school. All we _do_ with rumors is believe them without question! You should know this! It's been two years and people are still asking Cherie Lin when she's going to have her baby."

"That's mostly her fault," Santana replied, "She's a stress eater."

"I'm detecting a certain lack of anger about this. In fact, you're running below your everyday baseline."

"Look, I'll deal with it, okay? It's been a long week."

"It's Monday. And you still haven't said what you did to Jacob. "

"I didn't do anything to him. I haven't seen him since before lunch and he talked about doing this."

"You knew?"

"He tried to confront me about it. I blew him off. Seriously, no clue where the little cockroach is."

"She's telling the truth," Puck stated, standing in the doorway. "I stuffed him in a portapotty. I figure I'll let him out if we win Sectionals. Anything for my bra." He slugged Santana in the arm with a wink. Brittany looked perplexed.

Santana sat down in the back row, beside Kurt, relishing the fact that he was still in the room and not hiding out in Dalton. Warmth filled her chest for the first time since she found out about Brittany and Artie. _And, side perk: No stupid Lauren Zizes taking his place._

Moment later, Mr. Schue walked in with an announcement. "So, I'm sorry to report that Miss Pillsbury will be unable to chaperone Sectionals like she usually does." He apparently expected a slew of sad groans, but he was met with only a few giggles. Quinn finally spoke up, "Oh, is Ms. Holliday receiving the honor of being your plus-one this year?"

As usual, Mr. Schue's cheeks flamed red. "Uh, no, she's working. Coach Beiste has agreed to accompany us. She's expecting us to do well since she had to cancel this Saturday's football practice since we're stealing half of her starting line. Anyway, I've got to send off our set list for printing by Wednesday, so we're going to be making our final selections today."

Mr. Schue pulled out the board with the list of the half-dozen songs that were the contenders for their set list. Every last one of them had either Rachel or Finn's name attached to them, with a few other names for secondary parts. When he didn't mention spreading out the solos, Santana wondered where his inspiration went.

_Inspiration_, Santana realized, remembering what redheaded guidance counselor always seemed to show up after Mr. Schue had one of his out-of-the-blue ideas. _Maybe his ear is a little less open now that a hot blonde is nibbling on it._ _Well, Will Schuester, you're about to get a new muse. _

"Santana, did you have something to say?" Schuester asked, seeing the Latina's arm in the air.

"I'm concerned about our set list. We've got the geezers beat hands down, but Kurt tells me the Warblers are good."

"Their lead singer is fantastic," Kurt piped in.

"That's what concerns me. They have a lead singer."

Rachel remarked, "_We_ have a lead singer." Finn frowned at her. "Two of them," she hastily added.

"Exactly. We put Rachel front and center for the entire show, we lose to a team with one good singer. I think there's some untapped talent in this room."

Mr. Schue looked at his board, either all the hard work it represented or the failure it might be. "Let's put it to a vote. Who wants to spread around the solos?"

Eleven hands shot up, which became ten when Rachel glared at Finn. Brittany raised her left hand and Artie didn't correct her.

"Okay," Mr. Schue noted, "Let's not throw everything out. Quinn, Sam, you're our duets winners. You think you can handle the intro?"

"I think 'Time of Our Life' isn't out our range," Quinn remarked.

Mr. Schue nodded. "Any contenders for our ballad?" Rachel looked like she had been punched.

"I think Kurt should do it," Finn suggested. Santana piped in with agreement.

"Thank you for your support, Finn, Santana, but I'll pass. I've got several great songs prepared, but I wouldn't dare pull them out for anything less than Regionals. I do believe Santana has something, though."

"Let's hear it," Will requested.

"Oh, it's not ready…" _Why did I tell Kurt? I know I rocked it last time, but I've been too busy to prepare._

"Sweetie, you should do it," Kurt firmly suggested, squeezing her hand. "For _her_," he whispered.

Santana scrambled to the front of the room before she lost her nerve. "So, uh, I haven't given the band the music to practice with, so excuse me while I put on the karaoke version." She plugged her iPod into the stereo. The music started, and she sang the first few lines quietly, self-consciously holding her hands in front of her:

_Well, sometimes I go out by myself  
And I look across the water_

Kurt locked eyes with her with an encouraging smile. He did a cat claws gesture and she responded by bouncing in place with a fierce smile.

_And I think of all the things, what you're doing  
And in my head I paint a picture_

Finally in character, she began to strut around the room, her arms gesturing confidently.

_'Cause since I've come on home  
Well, my body's been a mess  
And I've missed your ginger hair  
And the way you like to dress  
_

She brushed her fingers through Brittany's locks during the "ginger hair" line, and eyed Tina and Rachel during "the way you like to dress." She planted her feet on the far side of the room and started to whale out the third stanza:

_Won't you come on over  
Stop makin' a fool out of me_

As the chorus began, she rapidly strutted across the room, giving a come-hither gesture to the entire clug.

_Why don't you come on over Valerie?  
Valerie... Valerie... Valerie_

The music stopped a few beats into the second verse; Schuester had turned off the music.

Santana brushed back her hair. "Uh, did that suck, Mr. Schue?"

"No, on the contrary, I think it was phenomenal. All in favor of giving Santana the ballad?"

Ten hands shot up, Rachel's and Finn's excluded of course, none more enthusiastically than Brittany's (again left) hand. Polite cheering followed. and Mr. Schue struck through two songs on the board:

"What I Did for Love" – Rachel

"Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" – Rachel

Quinn had to get a quip in, though. "This won't exactly squash the lesbian rumors, though."

Santana blew her a playful kiss and a challenging look.

Rachel remarked, "Well, since you're all intent on destroying my future career, I suppose I'll excuse myself."

"Drop the theatrics, Berry," Santana spat from the front of the room, "I'm not too petty to admit that you _are_ our powerhouse, and we'd be shooting ourselves in the foot by excluding you." _Kurt's with us; Dalton can suck it. _

"You're appealing to my vanity."

"_Vanity_'s too kind of a word. We've still got the group number to pick out. You always take the big solo on those."

"Our choices this time are 'Empire State of Mind' and 'One of Us', neither of which I have a solo in. I _was_ allowing others to shine, but you've taken that away from me. I find it hypocritical."

Santana stared at the board, thinking fast. "Hey, Mr. Schue, I don't see _your_ favorite group number on here."

"What?"

"The one you were so intent on us doing that you got a certain leggy blonde to mash it up with you."

Mr. Schue's reddening cheeks at the mention of Ms. Holliday was becoming a recurring theme. "'Singin' in the Rain' and 'Umbrella'? Are you sure?"

"The hats and vests _would_ look pretty snazzy over the outfits we picked out for the guys," Mercedes commented.

"And the choreography would be cool. 'Empire' we planned for the courtyard and 'One of Us' had _no_ choreography," Mike pointed out.

This couldn't have gone better had Santana planned it.

"But Holly—I mean Ms. Holliday—and I took the leads on that part. Obviously, neither of us can perform…"

Santana's eyes turned to Rachel. "If only we had a male and female lead to take over."

"I don't know why you're being so nice to me…" Rachel mumbled.

"Because your whining makes me want to stick a pencil in my ear."

"I'm not stupid. Glee clubbers, it would be our honor to bring down the house in our closing number, therefore guaranteeing our win at Sectionals. Right, Finn?"

"Yeah," her boyfriend agreed, perhaps not aware of what he was agreeing with or to.

Santana's eyes fell on Brittany. It wasn't like she'd forgotten the most important thing. "Speaking of choreography, we have more than talented singers in here. Kurt, tell me about the Warblers' dance moves."

"It really quite charming," Kurt remarked, miming the moves in his seat, "it's a lot of in-sync swaying, some snapping, snazzy arm movements…"

"And I'm sure it fits their style, but I for one have seen Brittany do more elaborate dance moves walking up the stairs." Artie's eye furrowed in confusion. _Yeah, probably 'cause you don't __**use**__ stairs_, Santana thought impishly. "Tina, back me up about Mike."

"He can't close his locker anymore without doing a spin."

"You know, 'Time of My Life' has a pretty iconic dance routine that goes with it," Will added.

"It's a good idea," Santana admitted. "But it would also mean a lot to me if Brittany and Mike did a little something during my song."

Brittany beamed at Santana. It was a like a drink of water in the desert.

"I think Britt and I can work something out," Mike noted confidently. Brittany turned to him and nodded vigorously. Tina grabbed his hand with a congratulatory smile. Artie looked slightly miffed with this turn of events.

_All this and I managed to not only __**not**__ piss off Rachel and ruin her nauseatingly perfect relationship with Jumbo-Teen, but actually wiggled my way into her good graces._ _Not that I care about being on her good side except for the obvious fringe benefits I might reap later. _

_But, more importantly, I've gotten into Brittany's good graces after the distance that's grown between us since the wedding. _For the first time in two weeks, Santana felt a flitter of hope, and it was enough to push her to start driving a wedge between Brittany and Artie.

: : :

Every day was a new opportunity for Santana to regain some of the progress she'd made with Brittany. Sectionals was less than a week away, and with the way things had been gravitating towards the previous states, Santana was set to do a little rewriting. Even if it meant plagiarizing her competition.

Santana remembered Brittany gushing about how Artie had supported her with her stage fright concerning Sectionals, and she wasn't going to let Wheels worm his way into her heart that way again.

Even though she had plans to directly tackle the problem, she still spent every lucid moment she had with her eyes pointed downward for that stupid plastic comb. Truth be told, the only consistent time she jumped anymore was sleep. She hadn't dreamed once and she knew she wasn't falling asleep and waking up that fast.

Keeping her eyes turned down the right idea, because she finally found that plastic comb, not on the ground, but in the platinum blond hair of Genevieve McLaire, the Rachel Berry of the drama department. Like Berry, she was short, probably shorter given the platforms she was wearing. Santana should have felt bad messing up the blonde's elaborate (and what the thesbian would probably label "spunky") hairdo, but she was going to end up losing the pink comb anyway.

"Can I borrow this? Thanks."

"Whatever," Genevieve replied, either too afraid to confront the Cheerio or not being attached to the hunk of plastic in the first place.

Santana stopped dead. "You're not pissed?"

"It was part of my costume. I forgot to take it out. Plus, Mr. Ryerson has like a hundred of them. And I'm not a fan of combs. Too many teeth and no mouth." The girl strolled off to her next class, leaving Santana sniffing for marijuana fumes.

Moments later, the comb found its way into the nearest trash can. It was a small victory in Santana's mind that she wasn't using Brittany's naiveté to further her goals. She enjoyed Brittany's personality, and there were times she absolutely appreciated her being slow to question things, but using that to her advantage so blatantly , while rather effective, did feel a little cheap.

Trashing the comb would be her undoing. Those ten seconds Artie didn't use to pick up the discarded item would be the ten seconds that he needed to reach Brittany before Santana could. She watched from outside the classroom as her plans unraveled. Artie was already speaking to the anxious-looking Brittany. That is, until her spotted the Latina spying on them from outside the doorway. When she turned tail and ran, Wheelchair pursued her.

She spun around, too quickly for him to stop in time, but she gracefully stepped out of the way, and then waited for him to reposition himself. It would have been much more convenient for her to move back into his eyeline, but she wasn't in the business of making Artie's life easier.

With her default lack of sincerity, she apologized. "Sorry about spying on your private little moment with your girlfriend."

"It's okay. She's just a little nervous about her dance numbers at Sectionals. I think I've got her calmed down, but I think she would appreciate a second opinion backing up mine. She trusts you."

Working together with Wheels wasn't in the game plan, but she wasn't content to turn down any opportunity she had.

"Of course." She walked toward the classroom, leaving Artie behind and praying he'd stay there.

He did. "And make it quick. I think she's about to wet herself."

Five minutes later, Santana told Brittany, "You being afraid of dancing has got to be the dumbest thing I've ever heard, and we've spent considerable time around both Puck _and_ Finn. Everything you do is dance. When you walk down the hallways, your feet are practically gliding above the tiles. When you greet someone, you leap into their arms like a ballerina. You don't turn; you pivot. You don't _breathe_; you inhale joy and exhale grace. Even in bed, you're a dancer." She giggled. "Heck, when I walked into the classroom, you were doing a dance."

There was a flush, and Brittany came out of the bathroom stall. "Joanna calls that the pee-pee dance."

"Well, it was the fiercest pee-pee dance I've ever seen. Brittany, I love my voice; I am pure sex on stage. But this Saturday, you're not going to be dancing for my song. I'm going to be singing for your dance."

It would have been the perfect time for a hug, but Santana could smell Brittany's shampoo from here. Her heart was already thumping hard enough that Brittany could probably hear it. So, instead, she locked eyes with her best friend, trying to show how proud of her she was without words or touches. When Brittany smiled, Santana hoped she'd done enough.

"What are you doing tonight?" Santana heard herself asking before she could stop herself.

"Artie wanted to take me to this new restaurant at the mall: Loma del Arbol. It must be a Chinese restaurant."

"Oh," Santana remarked sadly.

"But I told him I couldn't go since it was so important that Mike and I practice our dancing."

"Oh," Santana remarked happily.

"And then I have moto-cross practice."

"Don't break a leg."

"I thought that meant 'good luck'."

"Not at moto-cross. At moto-cross, that means _do not break your leg or you won't be able to dance for your best friend's song at your glee club's sectional competition_."

"Oh, I'll have to remember that. What are you doing tonight?"

"Well, for one, I'm going to go let Jacob Ben Israel out of the portapotty he's been in for the last 24 hours."

"Why? He told everyone you're a lesbian."

"I'm nice now, remember? That and I have to convince him not to press charges against Puck, so that he doesn't get put back in juvie for reckless endangerment and we don't have to replace him with Lauren Zizes."

"Why would Lauren Zizes join glee club?"

"Actually, come to think of it, if Puck's in juvie, Zizes _wouldn't_ join glee, would she? Makes no sense, right?"

"Santana, sometimes you say weird things, but it's okay, I think it's cute."

"I know the feeling." After locking eyes with Brittany for several seconds, she offered, "You want to know what my secret is?"

Brittany just nodded.

"I'm psychic," Santana finally stated.

"Oh, my mom took me to one of those once. I tried to bury my little sister in the backyard and pour water on her head. I had to sit in this big office and a lady wrote down everything I said. She asked me why I hated my sister and if I was a Satanist, which is silly because I didn't even know you yet. Anyway, I told her I was just trying to make my sister grow taller and I didn't have to go again but my family started going to church again."

"Which is where we met. And the next year, we started sixth grade and learned in Biology that people and plants grow differently."

"It was the best year ever because we had all the same classes."

"It _was_ the best year ever."

_But if I have anything to do with it, __**this**__ year will the best one ever, because you'll be mine. _

* * *

A/N: Why is Brittany doing what she's doing? I do have a reason; I promise. The entire series has been mapped out and even though there's likely still plot holes I've missed, Bartie is not one of them. I dare say my excuse makes more sense than the show's.

Wait, I just remembered "Never Been Kissed." Of _course_ it's going to make more sense; any reason is better than _no_ reason at all.


	10. Victories

Doing It Right: Chapter 10  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. It's Sectionals and Santana sees her hard work pay off.  
Spoilers: 2x09 "Special Education"

A/N: I wanted to thank you all for all the reviews and story alert subscriptions and the favorite story marking. They compel me to keep going.

* * *

Chapter 10: Victories

With one victory under her belt, Santana decided to go for another the next day. And her opponent was the fight Artie and Brittany had over her alleged "adultery." True, it had put a wedge between the couple for a few days, but in the end it had led to them getting closer, and more importantly, to that stomach-churning kiss backstage. If Santana had enough faith in the finesse of her plans, she would have swooped in during the middle of the fight, but past overconfidence had taught her not to be cocky.

Her opportunity arose when she saw Tina stomping down the halls in a black cheerleader outfit emblazoned with "GC", "Glee Club" she assumed. Pretending to be the fashion police, she walked in stride with the Asian girl, commenting, "So, like the new outfit. It's very Wednesday Addams meets _Bring It On_."

"You can tease me later. I need to talk to Artie."

"Normally, I wouldn't say anything. You and Artie are allowed to be friends, and I'm sure Mike trusts you enough to not get superjealous every time you have a conversation with him… anymore… but your special attire and rather aggressive attitude makes me assume the worst. Don't seduce Artie."

"I'm not seducing Artie!" She stopped and looked around to make sure no one in the hallway was listening. "I wouldn't be telling you this except for Brittany told me how you got Mike to sing that duet for me. I appreciate all your hard work getting us back together, so that's why I want to tell you that it might have been in vain. Mike and Brittany are having an affair."

"Doubtful." _This would be so much easier if I could tell her I've lived this all out before._

"They used to date, you know."

"Yes, _I know_. She's been my best friend for _years_ now. I'm the one who told her to go after him. But she and Mike were never serious, and that was on purpose. What makes you think they're involved in the first place?"

"They've been spending a _lot_ of time together, alone, _dancing_."

Santana waited for the weakness of the argument to settle in. "Well, to be fair, we did saddle them with two dance numbers for Sectionals."

"Exactly. Dancing is such a sensuous activity. I can't tell you the number of times Mike and I…"

Santana quickly interrupted, "If you really _can't_ tell me, then don't."

"Plus, she's so tall and blonde and…"

"…_gorgeous_. I know."

Tina turned her head. "You really _are_ gay, aren't you?"

"Don't spread the news around."

"The news has been spread. The whole school knows."

"The whole school _thinks_. Listen, you know how I know Mike is not cheating on you with Brittany? Because Brittany _adores_ you two together, and she would never intentionally be the other woman. Perhaps by accident, but I'm sure by now she's figured out the rules. If you're so worried, they practice during lunch. If you want to know for sure, let's go surprise them."

And surprise them, they did. One time jump later and Santana was waiting outside the choir room as Tina rushed inside, where Mike and Brittany were standing close, their heads turned toward the invading girl. "Time of My Life" was playing on the stereo.

_With my body and soul  
I want you more than you'll ever know_

_So we'll just let it go_,  
_Don't be afraid to lose control_

_Yes I know what's on your mind_  
_When you say,_  
_"Stay with me tonight"_

While Tina hurled accusations, Santana shut off the music, but the arguments had already begun before she could intercede.

Mike was screaming now, too. "I can't believe you don't trust me! That's just how the dance goes!"

Brittany had moved away toward Santana and the piano, tears already welling up in her eyes as she watched the two Asians' relationship crumble.

Santana called out, "Okay, everyone calm down. Seriously, if Santana Lopez has to be the rational one, something is wrong. How 'bout we find a quiet way to resolve this." Her eyes jumped to the doorway, hoping they hadn't attracted too much attention.

"You are _not_ doing that routine with her!" Tina screamed.

Mike defended loudly, "It's for the show. It doesn't _mean_ anything."

Santana jumped in before Tina could yell again. "It obviously means something to Tina."

Tina finally lowered her voice. "She's right. Mike, I _love_ that movie, but watching you dance to that song with _her_…"

Knowing Brittany was too kind to take offense, Santana cried, "Hey!"

Tina turned to Brittany and apologized evenly, "I'm sorry, Brittany; I didn't mean that. I would be mad if it were _anybody_. Mike, I always thought that that dance to be _our_ dance."

"It still can be. Britt and I are just doing it for the show."

Santana scooted up to Mike's siding, leaning in to advise, "Maybe avoid the nicknames; doesn't help your case. Okay, keep going. You're doing great." She gave them a wink and a thumbs-up.

But it was Brittany who came up with a solution. "Then it _can_ be your dance. You're an awesome dancer, Tina. You should do the _Dirty Dancing_ with Mike."

Unnecessarily, Santana pointed out, "I think she means the movie." But now that she had the floor, she added, "But, Brittany, I really want you to dance for my song."

Brittany's eyes softened. "I'd love to, Santana. If Tina doesn't mind."

Mike pointed out, helping their case, "It's a high-energy song, nothing but flips and twirls. There's hardly any sexual undertones."

"Except for the one I'll be putting out," Santana bragged, winking at Brittany.

Tina was overly amenable. "No, no, that's fine. Do the routine for Santana, Brittany. She deserves it. I'll do the other dance with Mike, okay? I'll go tell Mr. Schue about the switch." She turned back to Mike. "I'm really excited. Brittany, you can have him before school and during lunch. We'll take the afternoons. Okay?"

"Yeah," Brittany remarked, grabbing Santana's hand as Tina and Mike kissed before pulling it away like it was a hot pan. "Sorry," she whispered to Santana.

Santana looked down at her hand. She lied, "It's okay. We fixed this. That's just as good."

Brittany put out her hand for a high-five experimentally. Santana reciprocated, high-fiving back.

: : :

By the time Saturday rolled around, Santana was exhausted. She hadn't had any trouble sleeping, she assumed, since the time between her head hitting the pillow and the alarm waking her up the next morning disappeared. But between homework, Cheerios, extra glee practices, and her own meddling to keep the glee drama to a dull roar, it had hardly been what she would call a relaxing week.

Her attempts to drive a wedge between Artie and Brittany were not as successful as she would have liked.

She was pleased by some things. They seemed far more casual at this point than Santana remembered from the first time she'd lived through these events, so she was happy that she was at least slowing the progression of their relationship. Brittany still rolled him around the hallways, but they weren't engaging in any public displays of affection. Artie still seemed to be putting a lot of effort into planning their dates, meaning they were still in the wooing and getting-to-know-each-other phase of their relationship. Brittany had to cancel on every last one of their dates for the past week due to dance practice. But Artie had taken it in stride. Santana couldn't deny that they were certainly still together, if only officially. Tina had been remarking frequently how cute they looked together. _It's an empty compliment_, Santana thought each time,_ you're just glad Artie's not pining after __**you**__ anymore and now you can feel less guilty about all but cheating on him over the summer with Mike, your demographic counterpart. Even if I do work hard to keep you two together. _ Santana was biased, but to her Artie and Brittany looked comically mismatched.

Best of all, her friendship was Brittany was doing well. Though it seemed like Brittany was wilting from not being able to touch her, she seemed constantly in awe of her ever since the blowup between Mike and Tina in the classroom. The glee room was filled with happy couples and Brittany was constantly wondering if Santana had influenced every loving gesture between any one of the couple. When she asked if Santana had been helping her and Artie, Santana didn't even hide her frowns. "No, if Artie wants an awesome babe like you, he's got to earn every moment of it. After how he treated Tina…" She always tapered off, letting Brittany's overactive imagination fill in the details. On Thursday, Artie had wheeled himself around school, looking grouchy, and Brittany had guiltily admitted to Santana that she'd confronted him about why he and Tina broke up, but they'd resolved their issues by the next day.

She got plenty of one-on-one time with Brittany, though the blonde spent most of it testing her clairvoyance, after Santana had explained to her what "psychic" really meant. It was tricky, though. Minor, concrete details were the ones that were most likely to have been changed from her meddling. The one time she'd been right about something, it was who was going to be kicked off _America's Next Top Model_ that week, and it just so happened to be Brittany's favorite contestant. She'd assumed that Santana had _made_ her preferred girl lose and was mad for a whole two and a half hours, a record for her.

As the club arrived at Frankel High School in Springfield at 9 AM sharp, Brittany couldn't have been more excited. For the entire bus ride, she'd been bouncing in her seat next to Santana—Artie was of course stuck in the handicapped spot near the lift—preventing the Latina from getting a few extra hours of sleep. They changed into their costumes in the "dressing rooms", small practice rooms for the orchestra, and Santana let herself get caught watching Brittany change. She blushed; Brittany blushed; Tina gave her a warning look; Quinn quirked her eyebrow suspiciously; Mercedes rolled her eyes; Rachel seemed unaware she wasn't alone in the room and starting warming up her voice.

Once they moved into the auditorium, Santana informally directed people into their seats. She wasn't like Rachel, who tried to create seating charts last year, but she did find an arrangement that was suitable to all. They were lined up so that Finn and Rachel were together, next to Kurt, herself, then Brittany, and Artie on the end. She'd rather not share her blond beloved, but this guaranteed that Brittany, now stuck between her best friend and her boyfriend, wouldn't be willing to swap seats for anything.

The old people's choir went first, and while they put on a very nice collection of songs—Santana had to remind herself that old people could sing, too—they did indeed just stand there with their canes and walkers and wheelchairs. She felt bad about how badly they were outclassed.

The Warblers were up next. The fifteen-man troupe assembled on stage in their identical navy-and-scarlet blazers, and front-and-center was Blaine Anderson. As expected, he took lead on their first song, Train's "Soul Sister", which he sang lead on. Her mind had rewritten their dance moves to be a little more stilted, so it was a slight fear that they were a little more loose, synchronized, and charismatic than she remembered. Kurt seemed to agree. Santana leaned over and whispered to him, "So, is that your one true love? Mr. Personality?"

_I knew when we collided  
You're the one I have decided  
Who's one of my kind_

Kurt's blush, even in the dark, gave him away. She phrased the question right before the "So gangster/I'm so thug" line, and Blaine was making faces so comical Santana wondered how anyone could find him sexually desirable, but Kurt was grinning so widely he was probably hurting his mouth.

She teased, "He hogs the solos and his growth has been stunted by Stepford smiling. If you were straight, you'd have it bad for Rachel, wouldn't you?"

Rachel, who was seated on the other side of Kurt, leaned in to listen.

Kurt surveyed Rachel with utter disinterest. "Don't even tease."

Rachel nudged him with her shoulder. "You're just saying that because you know you'd be on the losing end of a brotherly feud."

"Finn can have you," Kurt whispered back, alerting Finn to the conversation. Kurt turned back to Santana, "So, let's discuss who you'd want… if you were straight." He'd made sure the last part was whispered more quietly. Luckily, Finn and Rachel were now distracted with grinning at each other. Santana glared at her new friend to get him to shut up.

Unfortunately, Brittany had heard enough of the conversation to pique her curiosity. "What?"

Santana effortlessly distracted her. "Kurt's in love with gay-boy-Rachel on stage."

Brittany's eyes jumped to the stage where the Warblers had started Queen's "Under Pressure". A bleach blonde with emo bangs had taken the high part, but Blaine was still prominent enough that she could tell that Brittany's eyes had fallen on the right guy.

"He's super-yummy, Kurt. You should totally tap that."

_It's the terror of knowing  
What this world is about_

Kurt just sank into his seat.

One row down, Puck, Sam, Quinn, Mercedes, Tina, and Mike were seated in a row. Mike turned to Tina, who was tightly holding his hand. "Babe, you okay? I need this hand to be uninjured."

"Sorry, just nervous. I mean, just like in the movie, I'm still not secure about that final lift. Brittany would have killed it. Her stomach muscles are stronger."

"It's true," Brittany whispered from the row behind, "I sometimes do crunches in my sleep."

Mike gave her the _cut-in_ gesture. "Babe, you've been nailing it all week. Plus, I rearranged my hand placement to make it easier on you."

"Oh, I thought you were just trying to steal second and third base. Now that I find out you're going to be doing that on stage, I'm a little more nervous."

Mike sighed in the defeat.

_And love dares you to change our way of  
Caring about ourselves  
This is our last dance  
This is ourselves  
Under pressure  
Under pressure  
Pressure_

Mercedes turned to Quinn. "If this goes on any longer, I'm gonna ask to switch seats."

"I might just take you up on that offer. Sam has been singing along the entire time, _with motions_."

Mercedes peeked around Quinn, seeing that Sam was dramatically mouthing the words, swaying along, his hands barely less animated than the Warblers'. He finally calmed down when the Warblers moved to their third song, Bon Dylan's "Like A Rolling Stone", however Puck began to air-guitar and bop along, ignorant of a glare from Mr. Schue.

Mercedes smirked. "Great taste in men you've got there."

"Shut up. At least I didn't fall for a gay guy."

"I'm never gonna live that down. Plus, Jones is totally jonesin' for that fine piece of meat on stage."

"Will Smith or Corbin Bleu?"

"Must you assume it's one of the black guys?" Sheepishly, she added, "Corbin Bleu. It's the hair. Lord forgive me, but I was obsessed with _The Beautiful Life_."

: : :

Santana briefly feared that without their typical last-minute backstage drama, New Directions would be unable to perform. She asked Kurt if she should flirt with Sam to press Quinn's hair-trigger jealousy button, but he dissuaded her from doing so.

"Any reason why you'd pick Sam to put the moves on? Besides the fact he's a tall blonde with abdominals that you could just _lick_?"

"His dancing makes Finn look like Justin Timberlake. That's a dealbreaker. He's not the whole package."

"Speak for yourself."

"Hey, what happened to Warbler Blim?"

"_Blaine_; and I'm allowed to have more than one crush. I'm sure there's a straight girl whose skirt you might like to get under."

"We're finishing this conversation later. How's an hour from never?"

: : :

Santana's fears were unfounded. New Directions killed it. The Flaxen Twins out-sugared Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes while Mike and Tina executed the routine to perfection. Brittany could have done it better, but at that last moment, when Sam and Quinn looked into each other's eyes, and Mike and Tina did the same, the number was injected with real honesty.

'_Cause I've had the time of my life  
And I've searched though every open door  
Till I found the truth  
And I owe it all to you..._

Her solo had gone well. Brittany was just as handsy last time, smacking her on the ass to start her off. Mike's and her routine was just as epic as she remembered it, and she didn't have to change a single come-hither gesture. She meant it just as much now as she had then.

_Won't you come on over  
Stop makin' a fool out of me  
Why don't you come on over Valerie?  
Valerie… Valerie… Valerie__…_

For "Singin' in the Rain/Umbrella", they might have lost a few points due to the delay of getting their costumes and props prepared. Also, Finn dropped his hat and Rachel her umbrella. _If I ever repeat the past again, I'll make sure we buy her a kiddie-sized one that's not taller than her. _ But the pair's vocals didn't leave anything to be desired.

_You have my heart, and we'll never be worlds apart  
Maybe in magazines, but you'll still be my star  
_

'_Cause I-I'm singin' in the rain (We'll shine together)  
Just singin' in the rain (Be here forever)  
What a glorious feeling (Be a friend)  
I'm happy again (Stick it out 'till the end)_

The applause was uproarious and Blaine even dragged his teammates to their feet for a standing ovation. The club was herded off-stage, throwing compliments back and forth in a flurry so fast Santana didn't even bother to act like she didn't appreciate the ones thrown in her direction. Brittany had relegated herself to wheelchair duty, so Santana didn't get to chance to thank her for the dance until the judges' deliberation intermission.

Eventually, the three teams were gathered on stage for the final results. The Warblers all stood with their hands in front of their groins like some ROTC squadron with permanent smiles. Tina clung to Mike's arm with trepidation. Sam and Quinn stood with hands interlaced, sneaking peeks at each other but not once catching the other's eye. Rachel stood with her arm linked to Finn's beauty pageant-waving at the crowd. Mr. Schue looked moments from barfing from nervousness. Brittany's hand was fully extended so Artie could reach up to hold it; she had two, so Santana felt no shame in grabbing the other.

The head judge was some DMV manager, and in appropriate fashion, talked slowly, filibustering with a poorly-written speech about drunk driving or something. He finally announced third place, the Hipsters. _No surprise there. _

"And in second place, the Dalton Academy Warblers, making the 2010 West-Central Ohio Sectional champions the William McKinley High New Directions!" So drolly did he speak that no one caught on that they'd won until he'd finished announcing.

_Won_. Not tied. _Won. _

Maybe it was because Dalton didn't have Kurt, even if he wouldn't have had any solos. Maybe Kurt would have influenced their performance somehow. Maybe without Zizes shaking the stage, New Directions' footwork was more secure. Maybe the judges appreciated the more classic "Singin' in the Rain" more than the modern "Empire State of Mind," which also could have come off as pretentious, like they were fully expecting to go to New York. Santana spent very little time speculating, joining her teammates in bouncing up and down; she hugged Brittany (it was worth it) and Kurt and Puck and (God help her) Tina and Rachel.

They later found out Dalton lost by a single point.

New Directions celebrated outside in the lobby with coffees bought for them by Mr. Schue. Coach Beiste smacked the backs of each of her football players, enough to make them spill part of their coffee. "You guys were as rockin' as a roadrunner with hard candy in its beak!"

The next surprise of the day was a screaming blonde woman racing toward Mr. Schue, screaming, "You did our song!" Ms. Holliday crashed into him, giving him a crushing hug. His drink splattered to the floor and neither seemed to notice. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to do that?" she screeched, without lowering her voice. Beiste just watched the proceedings with a grin on her face.

"I-I didn't know you were going to be here!" he replied with equal excitement. "Why didn't you let me know you were planning to come?"

"I wanted to surprise you."

"But how did you get down here from Dublin? I thought you were on assignment."

"It's Saturday, Ricosuave. I wouldn't last a week if a girl didn't get to play on the weekend."

She immediately turned to Finn and Rachel, hugging them both. "You guys were _awesome_, just as smoldering as me and your director," she sing-songed. Next, she grabbed Sam and Quinn in a double hug, repeating the sentiment, "I lost my _virginity_ to that song. You two brought back so many memories." She moved to Mike and Tina, putting a hand on each of their cheeks, "That goes double for you. That dance… oh, that dance… Prom night, that's all I'm gonna say." Another tight hug and she moved to Artie, kneeling over. "You _nail_ the 'Umbrella' rap every time. Seriously, that song is nothing without Jay-Z's sexy voice." Her hug for Brittany was met halfway and quickly turned into a squeezing competition. "Your dance… it awakens things inside of me. And that _flip_. In _heels_. Girl, what your legs can do." Santana spilled her coffee and jumped up. "Oh, Sweet Cheeks, I didn't forget about you. You were ripping it up out there." She fanned herself. "Made me wish I was Valerie." She winked; Santana blushed; and before there was time to respond, her head turned and she called out, "Puckerman! I heard you croonin' above the other guys on that last song. You're trying out for a solo for Regionals, right?"

Kurt, with the damn smarmiest grin on his face, asked, "So, that straight girl crush. You've got a type then?"

"Shut up." She smacked him with a program, before looking over his shoulder. "Oh, no, if Puck tries to tap that, I'm gonna have castrate him." But Ms. Holliday had moved on to Mercedes, praising her grace notes. Of Kurt's amused look, she spat, "Not for _me_, Lance Bass. I need Schue on top of that. Don't ask; I have my reasons."

Kurt was saved by Ms. Holliday calling out to him, "My baby boy, that goes double for you!"

"Oh, Miss H, you can _count_ on a solo from me at Regionals."

A bit of fear in his eyes at the blonde's loose tongue, Mr. Schue came up behind her. "I bought all the kids coffee. Can I get you something?"

"Oh, thank you," she replied before walking up to the counter and ordering one of the pricier drinks on the menu. Will, just then realizing he'd apparently misplaced his own cup, ordered, "Make that two."

Tilting her head toward the teachers, Brittany gave Santana a knowing look from her seat next to Artie at the table they were sharing with Mike and Tina. The latter was playing with her iPhone before she called out, "Oh my god, Miss Pillsbury just changed her relationship status to 'engaged'."

Santana's head jerked to where Mr. Schue and Ms. Holliday were standing. He looked like he'd been punched in the gut. Santana's brain whirled, _Oh, God, no, just… anything. _ He nodded to himself. "I'm happy for her. Carl is a really good guy." Ms. Holliday rubbed his arm. "Really," he repeated, more defeated, "no one likes to hear their ex-girlfriend is getting engaged." She smiled like she believed him. Beiste slugged him the arm for good measure.

When Santana turned back, Kurt had lost interest in the engagement and was staring at the Warblers. Blaine and an officious-looking Asian boy were giving the team a pep talk.

"You should go talk to him," Santana suggested.

"Maybe you should talk to Brittany."

"Make you a deal: I'll talk to her if you get Hairspray's number."

"You'll tell her how you feel?"

"In so many words." Kurt didn't look impressed. "Hey, I came out. That's arguably that's a bigger step."

"You did _not_ come out; you are just not denying it."

"Oh, you're one to talk. I'm taking baby steps," she defended proudly.

"Your baby steps are losing to a guy who can't walk."

Santana was taken aback. "That was mean. I thought you and Artie were friends."

"We are. I'm an advocate for true love, though. While I admit I had my doubts at first that your heart even beat, it's pretty obvious that it beats for her."

"What about Artie?"

"Tina's his true love. It pains me to see that he seems to have forgotten that."

"She's happy with Mike."

"And Brittany's happy with Artie. Doesn't mean they belong together."

Santana playfully accused him, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. The Warblers' pep talk is over. Get over there before you miss your chance. Or _I_ am going over there myself, and I'll do it with all the subtly one expects from Santana Lopez. I'm thinking… I walk up to Blim, pull a strip of condoms from my clutch, and point in your direction. There could even be raunchy signing."

Terrified, Kurt jumped up with surprising agility and headed over, stopping after a few feet. "Artie's in the bathroom. Talk to her. We have a deal."

Santana obediently got up from her seat and took one step towards Brittany when time skipped. She was sitting in Coach Sylvester's office.

"You're out, Wobbles."

* * *

A/N: Ha ha, Creedog needs to stop making musical selections. But he's going to keep writing, because he keeps coming up with awesome things he wants to share. Like the next chapter has the scene I've been working on since Day 1, so it's definitely getting published no matter what.


	11. Out

Doing It Right: Chapter 11  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. The world is crumbling around her, but Santana is about to get one more chance to set things right.  
Spoilers: 2x10 "A Very Glee Christmas"

A/N: Finally, we're here. This is more or less the turning point of the series. I'm not saying there won't be more up's and down's, but things will start to get more hopeful from here, I think.

* * *

Chapter 11: Out

"You're out, Wobbles," Sue told Santana.

"What?" Part of her reaction was the abrupt jump in time, leaving her in the middle of events she couldn't place. Her eyes scanned the office. A Cheerios calendar was on the wall, open to December. She'd lost at least four days, maybe more. Her eyes returned to her coach. _Oh, yeah, what does she mean by "out"?_

"You're off the Cheerios. Do I have to be so overt, or have the flannel, cat hair, and lack of meat in your diet destroyed your hearing?"

_Uh-oh. _"I don't get it."

"C'mon, Lopez, news of your Sapphic tendencies is all over this school."

_Yep, that "out". _"You can't kick me off the squad for rumors."

"Rumors you aren't denying. Face it, kid, you might as well book an appearance on the Ellen show._" _

_So, "out" for being "out." Great. _"So what if I am gay? I don't look like a lesbian. I don't have a girlfriend. I'm still an awesome cheerleader. It's discrimination."

"You think I care which way you swing? Of course I'd prefer you to suppress your natural inclinations; conformance is power. What I can't stomach is lying. You've been lying to the whole school. And you've been lying to the most important person of all._" _

Coach Sylvester was not inclined to that self-help crap. "Myself?" she ventured skeptically.

"No! _Me_. Sue Sylvester. Face it, Peaches, you're gone. Surrender your uniforms."

It was a shoe that she was expecting to drop anyway, even if she wasn't expecting it so early. The old Santana would have broken down into a weeping mess; the new Santana had enough strength to keep her wits about her. "You want me to strip right here or can I use the locker room?"

"Locker room. And if I ever see you give me that look again, I'll blind you. Just like..."

"Is this going to be a historically dubious reference to Stevie Wonder or something?"

"Ray Charles. His mother blinded him with a cigarette for showing an interest in making pop bottle wind chimes at the age of 8. I like your spunk, Fancy Fingers. It hurts me to lose my caramel macchiato with a double shot of silicone."

She wouldn't miss the boob jokes. "I'll be back in 20."

"Make it 15. I need to burn your uniforms to prevent contamination and the janitor turns off the furnace at 3:30."

"Merry Christmas, Coach."

"Humbug."

: : :

Her iPod told her it was December 14th. She'd lost seventeen days.

: : :

Santana came into glee wearing the change of clothes she kept in her car: a white minidress with candy cane knee socks (the ones she and Brittany had bought to wear with their uniforms) and a black leather jacket.

Quinn was the first to run up to her. "Santana, where's your uniform?"

"Coach kicked me off the squad."

"Why?"

Santana lowered her voice. "Why do you think? 'Cause I'm a 'Betty'."

Kurt was right behind Quinn. "So? I was way outer than you and I was her star Cheerio. She can't do that and she _wouldn't _do that!" He finally seemed to notice that Quinn was beside him.

Quinn brushed it off. "Please, I've been keeping their secret since sophomore year."

He glanced around. The rest of the club was watching with interest.

"It was more about the closet than the clothes," Santana explained.

"What're you going to tell them?" Kurt asked.

"I guess the truth. The _whole_ truth. I might as well."

"Are you ready for that?"

"It's not like they haven't figured it out already." She looked to Quinn, who shrugged in agreement.

"You're taking this rather well. Are you in shock?" she asked.

Loudly enough that the members of glee, who'd slowly crept closer could hear, "I was on the Cheerios for the popularity. My rep is already falling. I see the looks; I hear the whispering. If the uniform couldn't protect me from this, I'll gladly skip having Sylvester scream her usual mix of obscenities and non-sequiturs two hours a day. I'm _glad_ she kicked me off. Plus I hear there's an opening on the softball team."

Everyone's head abruptly turned to her, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

"Kidding, everyone."

Mr. Schue, who was trying not to look like he was part of the eavesdropping crowd, did her a favor and dispersed the group, announcing how they were going to going caroling again, to raise money for orphans or something. She noticed that the tree was filled with ornaments, so her autopilot self must still have a larceny streak.

Santana remembered this week. They would be booed by their fellow students. Some of them would be slushied; green apple and cherry would be the preferred flavors due to their festive colors. Sue would rig the teachers' Secret Santa and then she would vandalize the room on a particularly Grinch-like undercover mission. She would bold-face lie to _Brittany _when she was caught red-handed.

Santana was having trouble working up the enthusiasm for countering any of these events. On the front row, Artie and Brittany were sharing sweet smiles and holding hands. She hadn't been lucid for two and a half weeks, and in that time, Brittany and Artie had finally jumped a hurdle and were now in the honeymoon phase. She wondered what she had been doing for the past few weeks. She was only supposed to skip time when something unimportant was happening, or so she thought, and that moment that she'd gone dark was anything but. She hadn't asked many questions when Ms. Holliday had taken her to the voodoo doctor. She was just too emotional to care at the time.

Maybe it was that. If too intense of an emotional event could trigger a breakout from the trance or whatever she was in, maybe the confrontation she was planning had cause a massive jump. She wasn't keen on testing that theory and losing another chunk of time and popping back in just in time to see Artie present a promise ring to Brittany. _There's a saying: In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. I may know a little bit about the future, but I'm not a god. Every second I spend speculating is a second I'm not on task. If I'm going to lose weeks again, I damn well sure am going to have something to show about it next time. _

The club practiced "We Need A Little Christmas". Santana sang along, despite knowing the song would result in a shoe being thrown when they performed it. _Maybe I should warn the drummer?_

_For I've grown a little leaner  
Grown a little colder  
Grown a little sadder  
Grown a little older  
And I need a little angel  
Sitting on my shoulder  
I need a little Christmas now_

After that, the club broke up by gender for group numbers. Rachel of all people wanted the girls to sing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", giving a solo to every girl in the group.

"Except Brittany," Santana pointed out.

"I don't want one. I only sing songs by cultural icons."

Since no one could name the writer of the song—Tina had suggested "Jesus" and all it'd earned her was a glare from both Quinn and Mercedes—Brittany was happily resigned to sing backup. Santana made sure to sing her part with extra smokiness, knowing Brittany liked that, but the blonde barely noticed, instead watching Artie across the room, practicing a rocked-up version of "Jingle Bells" with the rest of the guys.

_Oh, "Fear not," said the Angel,  
"Let nothing you affright,"  
This day is born a Savior  
Of pure Virgin bright,  
To free all those who trust in Him  
From Satan's power and might."  
O tidings of comfort and joy,  
Comfort and joy  
O tidings of comfort and joy_

Santana didn't get angry. _Santana doesn't __**get**__ angry,_ she thought, apparently in the third person, _Okay, really Santana is pretty much angry all the time, but she doesn't let her emotions get the better of her. She always remains on top of things. This is no time to worry about things that you aren't under your control. _

When the rehearsal was over, Santana strolled out of the glee room and was met with a slushy to the face. Sticky, ice-cold crystals poured down her neck and onto her (of course) white dress. Wiping her eyes, she was met with the grinning face of Azimio Adams. "I got you watermelon, since I hear pink's your color now."

"Pink is the color of _gay men_, you idiot!" _Okay, not my best comeback. _

_Wham._ Finn had a better one in the form of a punch to the face. Puck jumped in between the two. Azimio surveyed Puck, knowing not to mess with the Mohawked boy. The fire in his eyes told the football player that his probation was the last thing on his mind. He wasn't going to get into a one-on-one with him. Fortunately for him, the rest of the team walked up, with Karofsky holding back near the rear. Mike and Sam joined Finn and Puck; they were outmatched but it was balanced enough to keep both side weighing their options for the passing moment.

The cold war never heated up because Mr. Schue ran into the hallway. The jocks were dumb enough to get caught fighting by teachers, but not so dumb as to start one in the presence of one. The 'he started it' excuse failed to work after that. Will positioned himself between Finn and Azimio, his hands hovering in front of each of their chests.

Finn called out, "Did that feel good, Azimio? You feel powerful? Putting down people that are different from you? Like it's forty years ago?"

"I think you mean fifty," Mercedes corrected.

"I know Civil Rights was the 60s. I was talking women's lib in the 70s."

Azimio risked a shove forward, but Schue grabbed him by the neck. "Son, I will drag you to Principal Sylvester right now and get you expelled. Finn, that's enough."

"But unusually clever," Puck noted.

Finn explained, "Mrs. Dooley let me redo a term paper of human suffrage. Turns out it has nothing to do with torture. I do listen in class. Most of the time."

Santana was cold. She was probably crying, too. She'd felt disembodied as she watched the proceedings, not unlike when she'd first jumped back into her body. And she didn't notice her position until the confrontation came to an end and a strong arm started dragging her into the bathroom. Even though she recognized the shape of the hand from touch alone, she didn't quite believe who it was until she was positioned in front of a sink and Brittany's face was looking at her.

"Santana, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Santana nodded pitifully. "It's okay. I knew this kind of thing could happen if I came out."

Brittany wet a paper towel and started to clean off Santana's face. "Do you have any extra clothes?"

Santana looked down at her ruined dress. It was sticking to her skin, revealing the outline of her bra, and it'd be sexy under any other circumstances. "You're looking at them."

Brittany looked down at her Cheerios uniform, noticing once again that Santana wasn't wearing one, too. It made them look as if they didn't belong together. "I'll get you my change of clothes from my locker."

"Thanks."

Brittany rewet the towel with warm water and carefully began to scrape off the slush from Santana's neck, never once feeling any embarrassment about brushing her hand along Santana's cheeks, neck, or collarbone. "You said 'come out.' Kurt says that's when someone says they're gay for the first time. Are you saying you're gay?"

"Yeah," she replied as if it shouldn't be a surprise, "didn't you know?"

"I think I've known for like forever, but it's never been smart for me to trust what I think I know. It was in the newspaper a long time ago, and you never said you weren't. But you never really said the words."

_I'd love to say the words, Brittany._ "So what? You know me. It's just not something I like to discuss. I'm different than you. You like girls, but you don't hesitate to talk about it."

"You said the labels were bad, so I don't say I was 'gay' or a 'lesbian' or 'trisexual' or whatever."

"Bisexual?"

"Why would it be 'bye-sexual'? I mean, you're not saying 'bye' to anybody in bed. You're 'trying' things with anybody."

Santana chuckled. "That's a _Sex and the City _joke you're mutilating."

"Oh." She broached something that had obviously been locked inside her for a while, "So is this what you could talk with Kurt about but not me?"

"Kurt's gone through this."

"And Puck?"

"Puck just… he's there for me."

Brittany threw the towel in the sink harshly, tears flooding her eyes. "_I_ could be there for you, Santana. I'm your best friend! Or so you keep saying. But we don't hang out much anymore. And you don't invite me to your house ever. And you don't let me touch you. But you let Puck touch you, hold your arm and whatnot. And, guess what, I'm not stupid! Kurt only likes _boys_, but I like _girls_, so if anyone could understand how you feel, it's me. Who else have you _told_ that you're gay?"

It hurt to admit. "Tina. It wasn't a big deal; I just kind of said yes to the question. Quinn figured it out a long time ago. After today, all of glee should have figured it out. Even Finn understands."

"But you couldn't say anything to me? You know what, Santana? I _do_ consider you my best friend, so since this stuff is so important to you all of a sudden, here it goes: I'm bisexual or trisexual or whatever it is. And I want you to be the first person I say that to. And, just so you know, I miss you touching me. It doesn't even have to be sexy-touching. I spend all day wishing you would just come up and give me a hug."

_This isn't my fault_, she thought angrily,_ I was going to tell you… something… and then seventeen goddamn days disappeared._ "You've got Artie. Go hug him."

"You wanna know why I started dating Artie? Because of stupid _labels_. I saw the way people were looking at us after our duet and after the _Rocky Horror_ show…"

Santana interrupted harshly, "Did I look like I cared, Brittany? I _wasn't_ ashamed like you were."

"I wasn't ashamed! I thought it was _awesome_ that you weren't shy anymore. I was just doing what I thought _you'd_ want us to do and be sneaky. But you changed the rules! You changed all the rules and you didn't tell me! You didn't tell me _anything_. Before, you made what we did a secret." She paraphrased, "You said everyone else was too stupid to know how cool our lady-kisses were. So, I thought if I started dating Artie and you started dating Puck again, no one would care what we were doing; they wouldn't think we were gay. But you didn't play along. All of a sudden, you started _telling_ people you were a lesbian. And after you did, it was like you didn't even want to do the stuff with me anymore."

"Hey, back up! Let's get the timeline straight. I _wanted_ to do stuff with you. I always have. And let's not forget that we _were_. But then you started dating Artie, and it was _before_ I changed the rules." She calmed down, realizing her opportunity, "But you know what? You're right. I didn't talk to you. Like always, I didn't express my feelings. It's okay, though. I kicked Puck to the curb and never looked back. If you dump Artie, I will gladly starting doing everything with you, and _more_." She took Brittany's hands.

Brittany pulled back. "It's too late, Santana. I like him now. He's really sweet, and he actually _acts_ like he wants me, and I can't break up with him." She sighed in defeat. "Can't I just have you both? We never let a boy get in our way before."

Santana huffed. "'Both.' I want to get mad at you, but I can't. Hanging out with Kurt has exposed me to all the political stuff. People like him and me, gay people… and like you, bi people, they kind have this… fellowship thing with the trannies and other types of queers: the weird people who don't even like sex and the people who don't know if they're boys or girls and basically everyone who isn't 'normal' Stepford people. Anyway, there's some people who think you can love more than one person at a time and it's all cool."

"I think I might be that."

"I'm have no doubt you are. You love everybody. But Brittany, I'm not. I'm selfish and jealous and I have _always_ been that way. I didn't care if you slept around, because at the end of the day, I _had_ you in a way no one else did. Now I don't. And Artie won't want to share either. He was pissed when Tina wanted to be with Mike, and he'd be pissed if you told him you wanted me, too, in the same way you have him. I'm sorry, baby, but you have to choose."

Brittany growled, "It's not fair. I am not going to pick who I like more. I wouldn't tell Charity that I like Merry Cherry more," she explained, referring to her cat and her dog. "I wouldn't tell Lindsay Lohan I liked _Mean Girls_ better than _Herbie_. I would tell a kiwi Skittle I like it better than grape. Just because things are different than other things doesn't make some of those things _better_. _Different_ is what makes them _awesome_."

"Brittany…"

"I have to choose Artie," Brittany declared in a rush. Santana turned around so not to face her. Brittany pleaded, "I'm not _picking_ him over you. He's my boyfriend and I'm not going to hurt him. If you and me were dating and he asked me out, I'd say _no_, too." She put her hand on Santana's shoulder; the brunette pulled away. Brittany continued, "I saw what Quinn did to Finn last year when she cheated on him with Puck. She hurt him _so_ bad. And she hurt _herself_ so bad. And then this year, she picks Sam over Puck, and I know he doesn't act like it, but he's all grumpy about it. Ever since we started high school, I have found a girl crying in a bathroom _every_ week because her boyfriend dumped her for 'somebody else', somebody 'better'. Half the time it was you, and you never dated them anyway." Santana lowered her eyes at that. "Santana, it _kills_ me when I hurt people, and I think it's worse for me than anybody else. No matter what I do here, somebody is going to get mad at me, and I _hate_ that. And I don't hate a lot of things, Santana, but I hate _this_. I hate Artie for actually liking me and making me like him even though I didn't think I was going to. I hate _me_ for caring so much about other people's feelings, because I end up hurting my own feelings. And most of all, I hate you for doing this to me. I never thought I _could_ hate you, Santana. This is all your fault." With that she ran out of the bathroom.

It was too late for Santana to salvage a damn thing; Brittany was gone. She punched the mirror with all her might. It didn't shatter, like in the movies, but it did hurt, bruising her knuckles like a bitch. _Me and my damn temper. I wonder how many other people are pissed that I didn't come out to them first. _

: : :

Santana found a pink duffel bag in her locker. It was the kind marketed to eight-year-old girls, with flowers and kittens and a smiling sun stitched into the side, along with a name: "Brittany."

Inside was a set of clothing that made Santana smile; Brittany had a unique sense of style. So, ten minutes later, she was walking through the halls in a pair of lavender capris and a light turquoise blouse with poofy shoulders and a frilly neckline complete with a bow-tie front with fuzzy bobbles connected to the ends of the laces. Santana didn't really need to add the pink Disney Princess-sized bow to her hair, but it was _hers_, so she decided to put it on anyway.

_I've just one wish on this Christmas Eve,  
I wish I were with you,  
I wish I were with you _

On the way to the parking lot, she passed by the auditorium, hearing Rachel singing a song. Lauren Zizes and some of the other members of the A/V club that Santana had never bothered to learn the names of were filing into the room with small artificial Christmas trees on dollies. She didn't even bother to ask. Maybe it was a performance for Finn or her two gay dads. Maybe she was doing a performance for herself on a whim and it required extensive decorations. Santana wouldn't put it past her. All this from a girl who considered herself Jewish. Maybe Puck would have some insight. Then again, "Puck" and "insight" might not belong in the same sentence.

Also on her tour to the parking lot was the Spanish room, where she saw that her glee director had moved to. He was making some sort of list. She poked her head in. "Wha'cha up to, Mr. Schue?"

"Secret Santa. I got Sue's name. I know you're probably in no mood to help her, but I could use some ideas."

"Hmmm, a soul?"

"Got that."

"Something toxic to mix into her protein powder? I'm not saying kill her, but I could forgive some skin discoloration, hair loss, maybe some semipermanent mobility problems."

Mr. Schue laughed and seemed to realize he probably shouldn't have. "Thanks, anyway."

"No prob." She pulled away and popped her head in once more. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Schue."

"Christmas break isn't till the end of the week." Santana just grinned sheepishly as she left. "Merry Christmas, Santana," he called out behind her, making a smile appear on her face.

She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled to a now-familiar number as she walked out the doors. "Hey, _nene_, what're you up to?"

Kurt responded over the line, "On my way home with Finn. My dad's agreed to take the family to King's Island tonight if we both get our homework done. _Blaine_ is in the Christmas Spectacular show, so needless to say I'll be doing most of Finn's homework, too." She heard Finn yell something in the background. "But, seriously, _zorra_, how are _you_? That should have been the first words past my lips. Oh, yeah, Finn cares, too."

"I'm still alive. But that's the last thing I want to talk about. Things are going well then with the future Mr. Hummel?"

"I suppose. We're just friends. I know the Warblers are no longer our competition, but it doesn't mean I'm looking forward to an eighty-mile drive just to go on dates. Yes, Finn, I'm still talking about Blaine." He was apparently trying to muffle the sound on that last remark by pushing his phone into his shoulder, but since it was an iPhone, it was ineffective.

Santana waited until she heard what she assumed was the sound of Kurt putting the phone back to his ear. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

"Oh, _now_ you're a romantic. And what ever happened to telling Brittany how you feel?"

Kurt _had_ to have heard the growl over the phone. "Look, I know I froze or whatever at Sectionals." _Honestly, I have no idea what I did at Sectionals, but it's obvious I didn't win over Brittany._ "But I held up my end of the deal. I _just_ got shot down, okay?"

"I'm so sorry, but…"

"…I shouldn't have waited, I know. And if you dare try to tell me 'I told you so' I must warn you, I know where you hide your magazines. I'd hate for your folks to find them spread out on the coffee table, fan-style."

"You devious bitch."

"You flatter me." _Wait a second._ "Are we having this discussion in front of Finn?"

"Finn knows. After Brittany took you to the bathroom, we kind of had a glee meeting about everything that was happening. Excluding Artie and Mr. Schue, of course."

"Thank God. It's cool. I may not have been much for friends before, but it's been really nice having your shoulder to lean on. And Puck's. And, heck, I'm suddenly getting the sympathy of Tina and Fabray and even Rachel. When did my life turn into an episode of _The Baby sitters Club_?"

Kurt's voice was again grave. "Santana?"

"Mmm?"

"This isn't the end. You'll get your shot. I guarantee, for prom, I'm going with Blaine and you're going with Brittany." His voice was distant as he yelled something to the driver, "Yes, you weird hetero, you'll go with Berry in this scenario." And then he was back. "We might have to buy each other's tickets. And worst case scenario, it'll be _senior_ prom, but it'll happen. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that. Have fun in Cincinnati."

"Have fun plotting Artie's demise."

It was past five o'clock; it was time to make her way home before her mother worried. Dinner that night was going to be chicken pasta salad. It was Brittany's favorite meal, but the girl wouldn't be getting an invitation to partake.

_How am I going to explain to my parents why I'm wearing one of Brittany's outfits? …why I'm not wearing my Cheerios uniform? …why I won't be putting one on tomorrow? …why I'm off the Cheerios? …why my dress is slushy-stained? What if they've already heard the lesbian rumors? _

The thought of coming out to her parents crossed Santana's mind. Kurt's dad had taken it well. _Maybe I should get him to come along._ She weighed the decision; her parents _were_ Catholic after all. And prejudices aside, they were already pushing Santana's 20-year-old brother to lock down a girlfriend with good genes. Santana was their only chance at a son-in-law one day.

_So, I won't be coming out tonight. I've got a girlfriend to steal and no plans yet on how to do it. _

* * *

A/N: I so often plan things in my fics that tend to happen on the show. Like Santana getting slushied? Had that in my plans a week before that promo came out. I just want to assert that I'm a little more creative than the show makes me out to be. I'm not saying I'm thinking up awesome things before the show. The similar scenarios I write are pretty predictable things; I'm just angry the show makes me look like a hack.

When I write my _Glee_ novel, Merry Cherry will semicanonically be the name of Brittany's dog, a Pekingese. You read it here first. Unless you read _The Feast of Fools_.

Originally, adding song lyrics was meant to boost my word count, but I resolved to use only relevant lines. It turns out that the words just kind of fit in with the story, which is something you can't always say about the _real show_, so I guess I'm just lucky in that regard.


	12. All I Want For Christmas

Doing It Right: Chapter 12  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. It's time for some Christmas miracles.  
Spoilers: 2x10 "A Very Glee Christmas"

A/N: You guys really seem to like the Kurtana friendship, so I'll make sure to keep that strong. Frankly, it seems really easy to have her make friends now that I've let her be less bitchy. Truth be told, I miss that surrogate family thing New Direction had going on at the end of Season 1.

* * *

Chapter 12: All I Want For Christmas

Santana ran into Finn in the halls the next day, so she grabbed him and thanked him for his speech to her to Azimio.

"You saved my ass. I completely froze. And not because of the slushy."

"Hey, it's no problem."

"Finn, I've been meaning to talk to you about something." She didn't go with her prepared speech. "I don't know if you and Rachel have... you know. But if you haven't, you really need to tell her about us before you do. And, just saying, soon would be good. You've probably gotten major brownie points for that gay rights speech, which totally makes up for the bailing on Kurt thing. And, also, since I'm gay, I think she'll be a little less threatened. A little, though. Girls are irrational."

"Yeah, I kind of gathered. Thanks. I'll try."

After Finn left, she enjoyed ten seconds of peace before Artie rolled up to her. "Can I ask you a question about Brittany?"

_No way this is going to be a fun conversation. _

"Does Brittany believe in Santa Claus?"

_Oh, we're there now. _

: : :

When Brittany approached her later that morning, she jumped onto the defensive. But before she could get an apology out, Brittany beat her to it. "I'm sorry, Santana. I was really mean yesterday. I don't hate you, not even a little bitty bit."

"No, you were right about one thing. I should have told you sooner. I wanted to and I totally was going to, but... I don't know, the last couple of weeks I've been totally out of it."

"I noticed."

"I'm just going through a lot. And I know this doesn't make up for anything, but..." She visibly steeled herself. "Brittany, I'm gay."

"Santana, you're wrong."

"Um, okay. I suppose it's a little more complicated. Kurt's been dropping the term 'homoaffectionate' and trying to plot me on a bunch of grids like it's math class, but it's getting into that really nitty-gritty gay terminology that—"

Brittany interrupted her, "Stop. I mean you were wrong about it not making up for anything. It totally makes up for everything." She then remarked officiously and monotonously, "One, I recognize that you trust me. Two, I acknowledge that coming out took a lot of courage. Three, I carry on an honest conversation with you. Four, I express that I am feeling: happy. Five, I accept this and know that you are the same person you always were and I love you."

A grin appeared on Santana's face. She pulled a pamphlet out of her backpack and displayed it to Brittany. "Miss P give you one of these?" Brittany nodded guiltily. Santana soothed her, "Hey, it's awesome that you were willing to do that. Though, it does mean that she must been a hundred percent sure about me being a lesbian. Whatever."

Brittany reached out to hug Santana before retracting her arms. Santana instead stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Brittany, who hugged her back fiercely, sighing with relief. "Oh, thank you, I've been dying to do that for so long."

"Thanks for being so patient with me. You know, for future reference, I'm kind of over the touching stuff, so we can go back to the way we were. Everything beneath cuddle time, though."

"Okay!" Brittany agreed, nodding furiously, her leg bouncing with joy like a rabbit's.

Santana bit her lip. "Hey, you didn't tell Artie about our conversation in the bathroom, did you?"

"No. He noticed I was mad, though, but I just told him it was because _Hannah Montana_ got cancelled."

"Thanks."

"Oh! He's taking me to see Santa at the mall, and Quinn and Sam and MikeandTina..." she said their names as one word, "...and Mercedes are all coming with. You should, too. You always visit Santa with me!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

: : :

It was like watching a video from last time. _Seriously, some things just never change at all. Except we're short a hippo. _

Mercedes took her gift request straight from a Christmas song, "I want a pony, and a doll that laughs and cries, and… one of us smells like McDonalds." _It's you_, Santana thought, _you and your tots. _

"Chap stick. Lots of chap stick." She wanted to smack the blond boy for obviously having too much fun with this, even though she knew Brittany wouldn't notice.

"Do you have anything for stretch marks?" _Yeah, Sweetie, a condom, a year and a half ago._

"I want Channing Tatum to stop being in stuff." _Except _G.I. Joe_ sequels. Anything to get Rachel Nichols and Sienna Miller back in skintight costumes on a fifty-foot screen. _

"When does Asian Santa arrive?"

Santana wanted a lot of things more than jewelry, but there was nothing she could really ask for with Brittany within earshot. So she told the mall Santa, "Bling. I can't be any more specific than that. Also, maybe you can redirect a couple of your elves away from Legos or whatever it is kids these days want and get them working on a detergent that can get Red Dye #40 out of cashmere?" She didn't comment on the roll of Certs in his pocket, because she realized this time around it was actually a cluster of candy canes. She gave hers to Mike so he could make a walrus face to Tina.

Brittany hopped up next and Santana waited for her to drop the bombshell. "I know you're really busy, so this is what I want for Christmas." She pointed at Artie. "Do you see my boyfriend over there?" Artie waved; Santana rolled her eyes. "For Christmas, I want him to be able to walk. You can do that, can't you, Santa?"

Everyone's jaw dropped and Santana mimed it, too. Artie mimed _no_ to Santa, but the guy just said, "Sure. I'm on it."

Artie whined, "Now we're screwed."

She had been expecting this but unsure how to proceed. She had been working on several schemes to fulfill the wish herself, help it along in the background, or prevent it entirely. She hadn't decided which idea was best yet.

Brittany threw a curveball, though. She was now pointing at _her_. "And the really pretty girl? She's my best friend Santana and she's a..." She stage-whispered the word, "_lesbian_. I'm not supposed to tell anybody that but you're Santa so you probably knew that already. Anyway, people at school are being mean to her, so could you make them stop?"

Artie turned to her and deadpanned, "Wow, and I thought her wish for _me_ was hard."

_You're right, Wheels. We're screwed. _

: : :

The last thing Santana expected to do was to work with Artie again, especially more closely than the last time. He declared, "I don't know what to do, but we got to fix this. I don't want to see her crushed."

"You think I do? Artie, I don't know how much Brittany's told you about my new hobby, but I like to fix things now. I've been thinking about how to make her wish come true. My dad's a doctor..."

Artie balked and interrupted her, "If there were an easy medical solution to this, I'd have done it years ago. _All_ the paraplegics would have. Literally, there would be no more paraplegics."

Santana snapped, "Will you shut up and listen to me for five seconds? My dad's best friend from medical school is one of the top prosthetic surgeons in the country. I have access to all kind of physical rehab equipment. We'll get you crutches, or leg braces, or something. All Brittany cares about it seeing you stand upright and putting one foot in front of the other. She's a literal person; it's all the letter of the law for her." Artie seemed convinced. "Now that I've solved your problem, maybe we can work on mine. I'm gonna make you walk. It shouldn't be too hard for you to de-homophobize the school."

"Don't underestimate me, Lopez; I can get creative, too. I live in a world designed for people with two working legs."

Santana frowned. "Don't play the cripple card on me. We're working together on this. I don't understand your attitude. This is my personality. What's your excuse?"

"'Sex isn't dating.' I haven't forgotten that little bombshell she dropped last year." Santana didn't like where this was going, but let the boy talk. "Girls experiment; I get it. You and Brittany were always attached at the hip and were _really_ cuddly, but nothing that couldn't be passed off as normal affection for best friends. Then you did that sexy duet with her. And then Puck tells me you're totally blowing him off. And, finally, you came out. Now you're dedicating considerable time to maintaining her belief in Santa. You _like_ her."

Santana decided there was no reason to hide her feelings. "I'm a lesbian and she's a hot girl. More than that, she's my best friend who's bisexual. It's not a hopeless crush. You shouldn't be surprised I'm into her."

"She's dating me."

"I'm aware. And let me tell you something; that girl used to follow me like a puppy dog. I could have abused her loyalty, but I didn't. A month ago, I could have had her dump your numb ass and never look back. But you make her happy for some reason. Maybe I'd prefer to have her on my arm, but right now… right now we've got bigger fish to fry. I'm gonna make you walk if I have to drag you out of that chair and string you up like a puppet. I'm not going to be the one to ruin her belief."

"Neither will I. And I don't want this to become a competition. This isn't the first love triangle I've been a part of, and having been on the losing side, I can sympathize with you. But I got over Tina and maybe you should get over Brittany."

Santana didn't answer, didn't make a sound, didn't even flinch.

: : :

Saving the choir room's decorations from Sue was the easiest scheme yet, a mere afterthought.

The day before she suspected Coach Sylvester would be "stopping by", she pickpocketed Mr. Schue's keys—of course Santana Lopez knew how to pickpocket—and made doubly-sure the room was locked after practice. Since Coach was still the principal and as such would have access to all the rooms, she made sure to fill the keyholes with potter's clay.

: : :

Artie's solution for "de-homophobizing" the school wasn't elegant, but it was effective. Someone—Puck was the primary suspect—sabotaged the slushy machine at the Circle K across the street from McKinley. In addition, Santana now had an entourage around her consisting of Puck, Finn, Sam, or Mike. Quinn had stuck her neck out for her with the Cheerios. (She had dirt on every last one of her squad mates) So, Santana was left out of the rumor mill, as if anything could top her current status, much less the female teacher-female student scandal of the previous semester. The one person who wasn't let in on the mission was Brittany, who smiled every time she walked by, seeing her best friend's clothes slushy-free, oblivious to why their male glee friends hovered around her doing their best Secret Service agent impressions. Sam even brought a toy gun one day and soon the rest of the guys did too, until the resource officer had a chat with them.

_But there's always one hole in every great plan._ The day before school was let out for winter break, Santana let Finn go to the bathroom while she was at her locker. The school knew the consequences of messing with her, and the least of it was the wrath of Puck, so it came as a surprise when she closed her locker and saw Azimio Adams with a Big Quench in his hand, his eyes locked on her. From the other direction, Brittany was walking down the hallway with Artie, right on schedule to get a front row seat to her humiliation.

Artie saw what was going down and began to race down the hall. He, Tina, and Mercedes had agreed to be her second line of defense, throwing themselves in front of bullets for her (figurative ones; literally the bullets were slushies). But he wasn't going to reach her in time.

Then Kurt decided to play hero. Santana knew how much it meant for him to do this. He'd gotten a reprieve and, for awhile now, his meticulously-chosen clothes had remained safe. Unfortunately, he decided to take the bullet in another way, to Santana's utter horror. Instead of throwing himself in front of Santana to take her slushy, he approached the football players.

"Hey, boys," he purred directly to Azimio and Karofsky, channeling Carson Kressley, "did you buy me a drink? You should know I don't put out on the first date, though."

_No_, Santana thought as her heart dropped into her stomach.

Azimio looked furious, but it was Karofsky's face that held a peculiar mix of emotions. Without a word, he grabbed the slushy from Azimio's hand, shoved Kurt into the lockers hard enough to dent them, tore open Kurt's slacks, and poured the mixture starting at his groin and moving up to his face. He tossed the cup to the side and with a malice that caused both Kurt and Santana to pale, declared, "You're dead, Hummel."

Santana raced to him, any retaliation from the bullies be damned. She was lucky; they moved along once Finn raced back and put himself between them. "Get out of here or I'll have you arrested for a hate crime! That's my _brother_, you jerks! I wouldn't do that to your siblings!"

She started beating Kurt's chest. "What was that, Kurt? Are you stupid? What the hell? I can't believe you! God, you're an idiot! What were you thinking? We had a deal! How could you break that?"

She felt herself being dragged away. It turned out to be by Rachel. She looked up and realized the entire glee club had materialized out of nowhere. Brittany was picking up Kurt and pulling him towards the bathroom. He resisted, though, for long enough to thank Finn, _really_ thank him from the bottom of his heart. Rachel's grip loosened as she watched this exchange.

Santana backed herself into the lockers, placing herself against the dent Kurt's body had made. "Why would he _do_ that? I _fixed_ things for him. I _fixed_ them." Quinn picked her up and held her. "I _fixed_ them," she repeated.

Time wouldn't jump for her.

: : :

In the girls' bathroom, Kurt changed into his extra set of clothes. He lamented that they were wrinkled, but found joy in that the reason they were so wrinkled was that he hadn't had to use them in a while.

"Are you okay, Kurt?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," he replied. He wanted to tell her why he'd done what he did, but the topic was strictly _verboten_ by decree of Santana and Artie. The magic behind her wishes being fulfilled had to be kept a secret.

"Maybe you shouldn't have hit on Azimio and Karofsky. I don't think they're gay."

"Doubtful," he mentioned.

She conjectured further, "At least not for you. Maybe they're gay for each other and didn't like you hitting on their secret boyfriends?"

"That would be ironic, but not unheard of."

"This is my fault," Brittany guiltily admitted.

"What? I find that surprising."

"It is. I asked Santa to make the bullies nice to Santana, but I totally didn't ask for you. It's all my fault."

"Oh, Brittany, sweetie, don't feel guilty. It's just as much my fault. I never ask Santa for that, either. It's stupid, I know, but fashion changes every year and I'm just a sucker for a new jacket."

"Why was Santana so mad at you?"

Kurt sighed. "She made a deal with Karofsky to get him off my back. I think she may have even blackmailed him." Brittany's eyes widened at the revelation. "He promised not to bully me as long as I stayed out of his way. But I just broke our contract. Like, really broke it. Like shattered-it-like-a-crystal-figurine-against-a-marble-floor broke it. He's probably going to start bullying me now."

"That's sad. What are you going to do?"

"My dad said he'd let me go to Dalton if things got too bad. I may have to take it up on the offer."

"That could be fun. You'd really like a school full of gay boys. I wish I could go to a school that was only straight boys and lesbians. But I'd miss you, so you could visit."

"You realize that this school _does_ have mostly straight guys and at least one lesbian we both know."

"I miss Santana. We're friends again, and she lets me hug her, but we used to do some other fun things, too." Perhaps she thought she was being subtle.

"I'm certain she misses you, too."

"It's like part of me is missing, right here." She pressed her fingers against her sternum, in between her breasts. "Do you think maybe she took one of my kidneys to give to a person with cancer? She does stuff like that now."

"It sounds like she stole part of your heart. I'm sure she'll give you hers if you ask nicely."

: : :

Once Santana had time to think, she realized everything hadn't gone wrong. In fact, a lot had gone right after the confrontation.

One, Brittany's belief in Santa was intact, since technically there was no evidence of her being bullied.

Two, Finn had completely stepped up for his stepbrother, so things between him and Kurt were rapidly on the mend.

Three, Rachel had seen Finn's courage and Kurt's forgiveness, so the last issue in their relationship was out of the way. Except for Finn's confession.

Four, when she arrived home that afternoon, her entire family was in the living room, including her older brother back for winter break, and there was no hiding her mood. Smothered by affection, she'd broken down about the events of the day, and in the course had ended up revealing her sexuality. To her surprise, her family was completely accepting of her. They had their suspicions for months and they'd come upon the PFLAG pamphlet sticking out of her backpack some weeks past, confirming it.

"I know this is a terrible thing to say, _mija_," her mother told her, "but we're actually happy that you stayed in the closet for so long."

"It was me, honestly," her father explained, "I… needed some time to confront some issues, to come to terms with what you were." He cringed at his own words. "_Te amamos, nena._ No matter what."

: : :

Santana had to borrow several thousand dollars worth of medical equipment, but she got Artie walking. It was a long process.

They'd started with leg braces and crutches. He stood for all of two seconds before his supported but still useless legs gave out on him and he fell face-forward on top of her. She wasn't eager to repeat that process.

The next step was to attach his leg braces to a lower torso brace, since his hips were paralyzed, too. He kind of wobbled in place and kept himself upright only due to the crutches. He tried dragging himself across the floor, but it wasn't impressive. "It's not walking," Santana explained.

They discovered that the leg braces could be loosened from the torso brace, allowing his leg to swing free. He'd have to manually move his thigh, and those they got a theoretically system in place. Unfortunately, he'd intermittently need both of his arms for the crutches and to shift his legs, and it proved to be too cumbersome. They'd switched to forearm crutches from underarm crutches, but this was only marginally better.

They took a big leap by trying electrical stimulators, which were meant to cause muscles spasms. With Dr. Lopez's help, they finally got the connectors in the right places after five long hours, only to find out they caused nothing more than a twitch in his hip muscles; nine years had atrophied the muscles past the point of moving their own weight, much less combined with the braces.

Returning the electrode machine was Santana's saving grace. She and Artie had strolled in just in time to see a sixty-year-old stroke recovery patient on the parallel bars. One of her arms was obviously stronger and she was favoring it. Artie saw what she was thinking: "I can support myself with one arm."

So, with a set of bars set up in the choir room, Artie practiced for two hours straight with Santana coaching him the entire time. It was a grueling process: shift his weight to his right arm, loosen the screw on the left leg brace, move his left leg with his left arm, tighten the screw, shift his weight to the left arm, loosen the screw on the right leg brace, move his right leg with his right arm, tighten the screw, and repeat, repeat, repeat.

"I think we got it."

"Yeah," Santana remarked, trying not to be excited. She didn't need to befriend Artie; she _couldn't_. "Do you have any looser pairs of pants? It'll be a little more magical if we hide the braces under your clothes. These nerdy sweater vests you prefer are actually perfect for the torso brace."

"Nothing loose enough for these."

"For the money my dad and I spent renting all this equipment, I think you can afford to buy a pair of pants. It would fit that gangster speak you like."

"Pot. Kettle."

Santana had to smile at that. "Tomorrow's the last day they keep the school open for teachers; this has got to happen then."

Was it hard for Santana to watch Brittany's eyes light up and race to hug her boyfriend when it took four minutes for him to walk ten feet? _Yes._

Was it worth it when she came up to hug her, too? _Damn straight. _

"Santana, I think you meddled again," she remarked in the middle of the hug, right into her ear. "I could feel the robot legs under his pants."

Santana was speechless. Artie was her saving grace, "Santa asked her to do it. He thought your wishes were so sweet that he asked her to make me walk so he could spent time making cool presents for you."

"It's true," Santana added, "he told me you were at the very top of the Nice List: Brittany S. Pierce and then everybody else."

"That can't be true," Brittany remarked. Artie and Santana exchanged terrified expression. "There's no way you're not at the tippy-top, Santana." She hugged Santana again. She moved back to Artie. "You're at the top, too," she told him, laying a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek, "because you are the nicest boyfriend in the entire world."

Santana was beaming, beaming at the fact she was an honest-to-goodness do-gooder. _Brittany has __**ruined**__ me. And I'm totally cool with it. _

"Walk for me again, Artie?" she asked and Santana helped him to the back of the platform again and cheered him along, if only to watch Brittany's eyes fill with the exact same amount of merriment as before.

The rest of the glee club, apparently texted by Brittany, finally made their was over to watch. Brittany's joy was infectious. Tina was the exception; she watched him walk with a mix of pride and melancholy.

Puck joked, "Finn, Sam, you two bozos better watch out. It looks like you've got competition for quarterback next year."

Santana noticed a figure hovering just outside the door. She walked out to greet Coach Beiste. "I don't know how to thank you for your help. You didn't have to lend us the equipment truck. You didn't have to _drive _it for us. Or help us mechanically challenged set it up. And you certainly didn't have to _lie_ for us."

"I said it was for one of my football players whose legs were injured in an accident. That ain't no more lying than putting a slotted ladle in a moonshine jar."

"You did everything short of dress up as the jolly man himself. You deserve some credit."

"A little girl happy on Christmas Eve? That's all the credit I need."

: : :

So wrapped up in her own issues, and no longer on the Cheerios, Santana was disconnected from Sue's machinations. So, when her former cheerleading coach invited the entire club to celebrate Christmas with Will, Santana was only too happy to have some festive distraction.

She briefly considered using the mistletoe on Brittany, before nixing the plan for being too cliché for words. Not to mention it was completely transparent: seven men who knew she didn't want to be kissed by them and six women wouldn't want to kiss her, leaving the one girl already aware of her intentions and a boyfriend who was, too. Also, it wasn't in the cards anyway, because Rachel monopolized the sprig for the first half of the night with Finn, only to have it stolen by Quinn and Sam when Finn, who'd been downing soft drinks all night, finally surrendered to the call of his bladder. Mike and Tina needed no mistletoe.

Brittany approached her during the party and it took all she had to keep her heart in her chest. "You're the brave one."

"Yeah. What are we talking about? Coming out?"

"No, I just _know_ that you're the brave one." She snuck a peek at Kurt, which Santana caught and tried to decipher, but was unable to. "I just wanted you to know I think you're awesome. For being brave."

_I'm not sure why she's so proud of me, but I'm certainly not going to complain. _

Halfway through the party, Mr. Schue received a surprise guest. It appeared that Ms. Holliday had the same fear that Sue and the club had had about him being alone over Christmas break. Santana, given her part in bringing the two together, decided she deserved to hide in the dining room and listen to the conversation.

"Holly! What are you doing here?"

"I thought I could save you some loneliness, but it looks like I was beaten to the punch."

"Hey, it's the thought that counts. Please come in and enjoy the party. How's the program?"

She slipped off her overcoat, revealing a black dress decorated with a snowflake motif. "Hard. But, you know, I'm learning about teaching styles and… it's actually really, really boring. Can we talk about anything else? Crawford and Dalton had a joint office party but I had to leave. I could only bear hearing so many variations of the same drunken pickup line."

"Let me guess, it had something to do with your name."

"Every last one of them. Not one more original than the jokes I've gotten since I was seven."

When Mr. Schue tried to pull her towards the party, she held them back and whispered, "So, I know we've not gotten a chance to really spend much time together, but could I possibly stay for the afterparty?"

"Afterparty?" The glint in her eye was obvious. He told her, "Behave yourself in front of the kids and I'm sure we can work something out."

"God, are you ever not a teacher?"

"We'll see what happens after midnight."

"Ooh, is that when Santa Claus comes?"

"It's the seventeenth. It's when Schuester Claus comes."

Santana muffled her snickers. In his attempt to dance on the line, he'd jumped a mile over it by accident.

Holly apparently cared as much about the line as Santana did, so her response was, "I can't wait. I know it's traditional to kiss under the mistletoe, but maybe later you can kiss under Holly?"

Santana could imagine Schue's bug eyes. "Holly, tone it down. My students are here. I don't want to get on any lists."

"Oh, big deal. You just change your name. You honestly think I was _born_ 'Holly Holliday'?" After a pregnant pause, she joked, "Kidding. My parents were hippies."

Santana, mentally filing away Project Tug-of-War Phase II a rousing success, walked back into the party, just in time to see that the mistletoe had been surrendered to Artie and Brittany, killing her buzz immediately.

_Speaking of buzz…_

She didn't know if it was the rum she let Puck sneak into her eggnog, but she definitely didn't remember the rest of the party.

: : :

Santana had heard those statistics that the suicide rate spiked around Christmas, and she morbidly entertained the thought that she could understand her considering adding herself to the rate. _But not __**actual**__ suicide. _

Lying on her bed, she had Brittany's number pulled up on her cell phone and her thumb was hovering over the "Call" button. It would be so easy just to tell Brittany her feelings. She'd get shot down again and this time, the shock would likely resulting in her returning to the present. _Would that erase the past couple of months?_ She figured so; if she didn't complete her assigned task, there were no reasons for the changes to stick. Then again, maybe, just maybe, she'd get to keep the moments she'd altered, and breaking out would be just a three-month time jump.

Either way, it had advantages. She'd happily skip three months of bullying; perhaps by then she wouldn't be the main target anymore. She wasn't looking forward to three more months of heartbreak, watching Brittany and Artie grow closer. She'd gone back to prevent having her heart broken, and instead it was being broken over and over. It wasn't doing good things to her health. She figured she'd gain a few pounds now that she was off the Cheerios and was able to more regularly satisfy her hunger without guilt, but she'd actually lost weight already due to poor appetite.

Regardless, when she went back, Brittany and Artie would be together. Maybe she'd be out of the closet still; maybe she'd have to come out all over again. Either way, it wasn't like she was giving up forever. She could harden her heart again, wait a few more months—maybe a year or so—for them to break up. _It's not like they're gonna get married, is it?_ _Then again, Artie might think he won't get many more chances._ _ He's lost Tina and it would be difficult to bag a girl like Brittany again. I can't let that happen. At the very least, I'll pull one of those wedding movie clichés and I'll object to the marriage when the minister asks everyone to speak now or forever hold their peace. _

_But should I take that Brittany back? She chose Artie over me, didn't she? The Brittany from this timeline said staying with Wheels was about loyalty, not love. _In her emotionally vulnerable state, she knew she would take back either Brittany in a heartbeat. _But what if it's the other one, the one I traveled back for? She won't have the fond memory of me choosing to do a duet with her, not until "Landslide", when I was too late. She thinks I'm a coward who's still mostly in the closet. Even if I make her mine, will this one yearn for Artie?_

"_I'm so yours. Proudly so." _

_No, that Brittany doesn't just love me. She's __**in love**__ with me. She wants to be with me. The two Brittanys aren't different people; they're still the same loving, silly girl who is terrified of hurting anybody. She never said she loved him more. When I go back, I've got a shot, probably even a better one. _

_So, let's go back. _

* * *

A/N: I so often plan things in my fics that happen to occur on the show. Like Santana getting slushied? Had that in my plans a week before that promo came out. I just want to assert that I'm a little more creative than the show makes me out to be. I'm not saying I'm thinking up awesome things before the show. The foresights I have are pretty predictable occurrences; I'm just angry the show makes me look like a hack.

I've kind of reduced Shannon Beiste's storytime. I'm not going to pretend that I've been doing a little unnecessary rewriting of the plot elements I don't like. (TV plots are very polarized; characters never compromise or find happy mediums, and I try to remedy that.) But I do regret that I've made her a tertiary character. I really do like her, so I'll really try to fit her in more in the future.

And the Hollister stuff? I don't know; I'm dabbling with it. I suppose I am shipping them a little bit right now, but the inclusion is mainly because the subplot has really taken off, and that's more important than shipper drama.


	13. The Things Santana Does Best

Doing It Right: Chapter 13  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes concerning her relationship with Brittany, so she can't help but take it.  
Spoilers: 2x11 "The Sue Sylvester Shuffle"

A/N: To be honest, I couldn't remember half of the plotlines in this episode, yet somehow it produced two chapters worth of material.

* * *

Chapter 13: The Things Santana Does Best

With Brittany's contact profile pulled up on her phone, Santana's finger was poised over the Call button, but a buzzing sound and a popup message delayed her action. It was text message from Kurt. The preview stated briefly: "You still have a…" When she checked the message, the rest read: "…chance with Brittany. Courage."

She put down the phone and exited out of Brittany's profile. She wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, to chicken out and take the easy route. She'd undergone a journey she didn't understand, didn't even quite believe in at first, and no way was she going to abort if she might just fix everything.

"_You still have a chance with Brittany." Hell yeah, I do. _

: : :

Brittany's family had traveled to Pennsylvania for the winter break, so Santana's interactions with her best friend were limited to phone calls and texting. She was ready to make up the time once they were back at school.

Ever since being dropped from the Cheerios, Santana had found that she remained lucid during the time Cheerios practice took place, so she'd begun sneaking into the gym and watching the routines from underneath the bleachers, where Sue wouldn't see her. Becky had immediately located her the first time she tried this, but the girl was easily bribed with a rice-crispy treat she had in her backpack. So, every day, she'd bring the girl some kind of sweet: a cookie, a brownie, a cupcake, a lollipop; and in return she was allowed to watch the squad, or more specifically, Brittany.

_God, how does she looks so sexy even with blue hair?_

: : :

Santana attended the football games for the same reason that she attended Cheerios practices. It somehow became her routine to sit between Kurt and Rachel, who both watched a certain quarterback while she watched a certain cheerleader. She noticed that Brittany and Artie, despite spending the majority of the game on the sidelines—The Wheeled Battering Ram turned out to be a gimmick that they could only play every once in a while—they didn't tend to talk much. In fact, their sole interaction was a sweet exchange of hand-waving at the start of each game.

During timeouts, Santana's mind tended to wander. _How did I get to the point where I can manage sitting beside Rachel without puking?_ Once news traveled around the club that Santana and Kurt were friends, Rachel made it her mission to befriend the normally reclusive girl, too. The singer assumed it had something to do with their shared sexual orientation, so she'd hit Santana with a full court press monologue about her two gay dads one day. Santana was ready to bite back with one of her typical cutting remarks, but she noticed Brittany grinning at her. Brittany of course thought it was just fantastic that Santana was being friendly for once, so Santana caved into a bizarre dinner date with the diva, the other diva, and the first diva's lumbering boyfriend. She drew the line at becoming a founding member of the GayLesbAll, however.

"You're our 'Lesb'! We need a 'lesb'!" Rachel cried.

"Then _you_ get under some girl's skirt. I'll have your toaster oven ready."

"That was an _Ellen_ joke!"

"Yes, I know. Kurt's shown me that damn episode three times."

So, here she was, sandwiched between the two least popular kids at McKinley, both of whom just grabbed one of her hands in surprise. She looked up and saw Finn flat on his back in the middle of the football field, Karofsky's bulky form laughing then being dragged off field by his faceguard by Coach Beiste.

One turnover later, and McKinley had lost their last conference game. The sport section in the next day's newspaper would report that the Titans were predicted to lose the championship game.

: : :

"Oh my god, Artie!" Tina exclaimed in the glee the next day.

Artie was covered head-to-toe in slushy. Only now that it had already occurred, Santana remembered the event happening the first time. Brittany jumped up from her seat beside Santana and raced toward him. Kurt's comforting hand was on her leg. "Let her."

"I know."

Finn jumped up. "This ends here."

Puck followed, along with Mike and Sam. "We'll go… Thunder Dome on those guys!"

They were met halfway by the rest of the football team, who walked into the choir room. Her ability to process the events, much less put her scheming mind to work, froze, as she flashed back to being slushied by the same group the previous month.

If Kurt hadn't pulled her from her seat, she wouldn't have known to protest Mr. Schue drafting them into the glee club.

"Hell to the no!" Mercedes screamed.

"Mr. Schue, are you serious?" Finn proclaimed, "These are the guys who've been torturing Kurt and Santana all year!"

"I will not share the room with these homophobes!" Rachel added.

The football players were no less receptive. After Schuester and Beiste finally calmed the crowd, Rachel and Puck sang a Lady Antebellum song as an attempt to get the football players to see how "cool" glee was. Santana thought they might have better luck with some Black Eyed Peas or Chris Brown. She turned to Kurt, "I can't believe Mr. Schue is even letting Karofsky in the room after what he said to you." Kurt was silent. "You didn't tell him? The entire club was there! You've got witnesses." He just shook his head.

The song ended and Azimio was an asshole and a fight broke out and Kurt used the distraction to leave the room. Mr. Schue noticed and asked about his whereabouts. Santana turned her head to glare at the bullies.

Azimio shot his mouth off again. "I guess he was overwhelmed. This is the first time there's been any testosterone in this room."

"Adams!" Beiste screamed.

Santana noticed Karofsky was watching the door with an emotion she couldn't identify, but at the same time seemed familiar. He wasn't angry; he seemed depressed even.

_I can relate. _

_I can relate?_

"Coach," another football player called. Santana couldn't place his name. It was something weird and Italian, like Stello or Lando. He didn't look Italian: rotund with a head of dirty blond hair. "Can we just forget this? I want to get out of here before I grow a pair of breasts."

"I think you're too late," Quinn quipped. Santana thought that maybe that was supposed to be her line.

Azimio seemed to notice Karofsky's silence. "Hey, Dave, man, don't you got nothing to say about this?"

"I want to win the championship. That's all."

: : :

"Sue got a cannon," Quinn told her in lieu of a hello.

Santana nodded; she knew what that meant. "Yeah, I saw it out on the field."

"She wants to shoot Brittany out of it."

"Well, she's not going to," Santana explained plainly.

"I already went to Mr. Schue and he got the school's lawyer involved. Sue fired him obviously, but she mistakenly thought that meant his law license was revoked. I need you to help me talk Brittany out of signing anything Sue gives her."

"Yeah. Of course. There's not enough words meaning 'yes' to show how much I agree with you. I wouldn't let Brittany fall into any danger."

"She's in real danger, you know. Sue tried to calm Brittany's fears by shooting the Cheerio mannequin out of it. It's in pieces."

"I'll handle it, Q."

"Thanks." Quinn tried to lighten the tone. "Remember what we dared you into doing to that mannequin at the beginning-of-year party?"

"Yeah, you made me make out with it. Hilarious."

"It was… until you tried to go to third base and then it was just weird. Seriously, I thought Latinos were supposed to handle their tequila better. You really were the worst closeted lesbian ever."

: : :

It was a miracle when Mr. Schue finally announced that the expanded glee club would be doing "Thriller." The football players seemed to rein in their hatred. MJ apparently had some sway with even them, even if they were unfamiliar with The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, whose "Heads Will Roll" song they were mashing up "Thriller" with. Santana was even assigned a solo.

"You're really lucky," Brittany told Santana. "You get to do the show."

"So would you, if you stayed behind." She noticed Artie was intently following the conversation, but not offering up any support.

"It's the Regional competition. Coach would kill me if I stayed."

"Coach might kill you if you go." Brittany seemed to take that to heart. "Don't do the cannon stunt. We… the Cheerios don't need it to win. Nationals are at the Cowboy Stadium in Dallas. It's a dome; you'll crash into the roof."

Brittany hung her head, squeezing Artie's hand for support.

Unwilling to watch, Santana turned to the empty chair beside her. Kurt had skipped practice. _Kurt._ When she looked up, she noticed that Karofsky was looking at the same spot she was.

: : :

After half an hour of zombie boot camp, the clubs were finally dismissed to practice makeup. Karofsky was held back by Mr. Schue, so Santana decided to put her hiding skills to work.

"Dave, it's pretty obvious someone isn't here."

"Hummel," he remarked with what Santana could hardly believe sounded like guilt.

"It's no secret that you've been hard on him."

"What? I mean, yeah." He voiced trailed off, leaving the apology unsaid. "You'd rather him here than me. I suck."

"On the contrary, you're not half-bad, Dave. Now, I don't know about your singing prowess, but your zombie moves are pretty inspired. You look like you're having fun, so I'm thinking about putting you out front during the show."

"Okay…"

"Still, it would mean a lot to me if you would apologize to Kurt. This whole exercise is about burying the hatchet. I'm not saying you can expect to make a lot of new friends, but you wouldn't get so many dirty looks from my glee kids."

Karofsky was saved from having to respond when Beiste came back out, calling for him, thinking he'd skipped out on makeup.

"I asked to stay, Shannon. We're done so you can send him back. Think about what I said, Dave." Karofsky nodded and walked off, double-timing when Beiste swung at him with her playbook.

"I think this just might work, Will," Beiste remarked.

"Yeah, these guys, they just need someone to tell them that they don't have to be good at just one thing. I mean, two years ago, it was like Rachel was the only student at this school who realized you could be in more than one club. I'm pretty sure we were written up in a magazine as the most cliquish school in the nation."

Beiste chuckled to herself. "Well, maybe we should try recruiting the Cheerios next. Perhaps it'd get Sue off our back. I think you could sweet-talk the new assistant coach."

_Oh no_, Santana thought, _I was hoping he'd stay ignorant of this development until at least next week. _

"There's a new Cheerios coach?"

"Sue's pretty busy, what with being principal and having her cheerleading Regionals coming up, so she hired an assistant coach to work the girls. I think her name's 'Delmonico'."

Santana could hear the frown in her director's voice. "Oh, no, please don't be."

_It is, Mr. Schue. I'm sorry_, Santana thought before running off to the makeup room before she was missed.

: : :

Will was standing in the gym, and sure enough, his ex-wife Terri was calling out to the JV Cheerio squad in a tone that would make Sue proud. "C'mon, ladies! Let's see some devotion! You made me a promise! I can forgive your mistakes, but you have to do better. That's how it works!" She sighed. "Oh, it never works out like that. He leaves you. Alright, take a break!" She turned and gasped when her eyes fell upon her ex-husband, staring at her. After a psyching breath, she walked over. "Hello, Will." She was wearing a track suit, much like her boss, a baby blue one, the jacket unzipped, displaying a tight white spaghetti tank.

"You took a job as the Cheerio coach?"

"Sue Sylvester offered me a very generous salary to do so. I believe it's one dollar more than what you make." Her grin is exactly the type that Will imagined Sue would have had when she thought it up. "But if you're concerned that I'm here to win you back, you can rest assured that I am not. In fact, I went to confront the man-stealing ginger and she tells me that she's engaged to my dentist. I think he's the one man I would have been willing to leave you for. Eh, life goes on. But she also told me that you've taken up with the porn star."

"She's not a porn star, Terri. And Holly and I are seeing each other casually."

"Come on, Will, don't lie to me. My Cheerios are gossips. I know she stayed over after your Christmas party. Did you even change the sheets in our matrimonial bed before you began this liaison?"

"Terri, we're divorced. I've moved on. You should, too."

"I'll have you know that I'm beating them off with a stick. There's a very attractive young man who cleans my apartment complex's swimming pool and he has a bit of thing for older women."

"What happen to your job at Sheets 'N' Things?"

"They outsourced it to India."

"I don't understand how that works."

At that moment, at Lima's Sheets 'N' Things store, Figgins, the former principal of William McKinley High, is screaming at Howard Bamboo for improperly organizing the candles by height. "I'm color blind," was Howard's excuse.

: : :

It made sense that the combined brain power of Finn and Karofsky would decide to do a song by a band _named_ The Zombies instead of a song having any relation to actual zombies.

_But it's too late to say you're sorry  
__How would I know, why should I care  
__Please don't bother tryin' to find her  
__She's not there_

Kurt wasn't there, so Santana could reasonably assume that Karofsky hadn't taken Mr. Schue's advice to heart and apologized. When she texted Kurt about his absenteeism, he replied with a lame excuse about feeling sick. _Maybe it's not so lame really. I'd feel sick, too. _

After the performance, Artie came up to Brittany, who screamed, jumped into Santana's lap, and dug her head into the Latina's shoulder. Ten minutes later, after washing off his makeup, Artie returned, asking for a minute alone. Santana reluctantly gave him it. Once barely hidden ten feet away—Brittany wasn't overly observant and Artie distracted by Brittany no doubt—she overheard him ask invitingly, "So, can I come over tonight? I'm in a _Mary Poppins_ mood."

"Sure," she replied dully.

"You don't sound too excited."

"No, it's just… I kind of think we like different parts of the night. My favorite part is the cuddling and you seem to like… the not-cuddling that has less clothing."

Artie laughed. "It's okay, babe. Girls usually like the foreplay more than the main performance."

Brittany just nodded. She didn't remember liking foreplay better than sex with Santana. Then again, they were two different things, and _different_ didn't mean _better_. And Santana certainly had a favorite, and it definitely wasn't the foreplay, not that she didn't give in to Brittany's desire for cuddling. In fact, in the time before she started dating Artie, Santana initiated the sweet lady kisses without asking. But Artie never slouched in making her feel loved. But this train of thought scared and confused her, so she just nodded with a weak smile.

Santana was eavesdropping. She didn't know why the word hadn't hit home until now. She was learning so much, though.

_Well, isn't __**that**__ an interesting development. _

: : :

The next day, Santana stopped Quinn and Brittany in the hall, each holding a document.

Santana crossed her arms. "Those better not be what I think they are."

Quinn admitted, "Glee or Cheerios. Coach turned it into a Sophie's choice."

"I think mine's a Brittany's choice," the other girl pointed out.

"Coach would have kicked us off if we didn't go to Regionals, but Mr. Schue would have let us stay if we did. But Coach changed the rules."

"Pick glee then. It's better." Brittany bristled. Without looking at Brittany, Santana continued, "I know they're _different_, but one makes you happier. One may do things for you, but the other fulfills your needs deep inside."

"What are you talking about, Santana?" Quinn asked, one eyebrow raised.

Santana refocused on Quinn. "Let me start again. Sue needs you more than you need her. She can be replaced. Her star Cheerios can't."

"Plenty of ambitious girls on that team. And Coach Sylvester's the best in the country."

"Sue just wants to lord over people. She got to lord over students as Cheerio coach and now she's splitting her time with playing principal because she can lord over teachers, too. And that's why she replaced herself."

"With Mr. Schue's ex-wife, who hadn't cheered in fifteen years and doesn't have six National titles."

"Now you're talking like her! Listen to me, Q, you're not in Cheerios to win competitions. You just like the popularity."

"If we win competitions, I could get a scholarship!"

"You've got a four-point and no dreams of getting out of Ohio. You're set, Barbie."

"So maybe it is about popularity. _You_ certainly haven't fared well without the uniform."

"My stock plummeted for an entirely different reason, but I'm happier; I'm not lying about who I am."

Brittany bowed her head again, but Santana ignored her for the moment.

She continued with Quinn, her tougher opponent, "Sue dumped you without a second thought last year. She did the same to me less than a month ago. She doesn't have an ounce of loyalty to you, and there's no reason you should have any for her. To be honest, I would have loved the honor of telling her 'Screw you' but I didn't get a chance. You think you're head bitch? You're Sue's bitch. You know what you love more."

"You're right." She ripped the resignation letter right there. "Thank you, Santana."

"Please, we all know who the real HBIC is." Quinn smiled and Santana could help but do so, too. Santana turned to Brittany, putting her hands on Brittany's arms. "You heard everything I said to Quinn, right? You weren't thinking about helicopters or _Inception_ or the evil gerbil army in your attic?"

"No, I heard."

"That all goes for you, too. Brittany, you also can't let Sue shoot you out of that cannon. I won't let you. Life is not like _Looney Tunes_ where you come out covered in soot if something goes wrong. If you land wrong, you could break your legs and not dance for months. If the cannon misfires, you could _lose_ your legs and never dance again. You could _die_."

"But the cannon has a family." She handed Santana a crayon drawing that she was holding under her letter.

Santana turned to Quinn, who defended herself, "I tried to tell her that cannons don't have families, but Coach gave her a PhotoShopped picture."

"PhotoShop is a myth," Brittany explained, "You can't fake pictures. Encyclopedia Brown taught me that."

Santana replied instantly, "Well, I'm sure that the cannon has a very nice family. But you know what that cannon _doesn't_ have?" She showed Brittany her own drawing. "Hands to write you notes with."

"Coach lied," Brittany realized, taking the picture, and tearing it up. "Let's go to glee."

_All that, and I also prevented that pissing contest between Finn and Sam. _

"I do like being fought over, though," Quinn mused.

At first, Santana wondered if Quinn was reading her thoughts before realizing that two _other_ people were fighting over her, for different reasons.

"Not everyone does," Brittany remarked, two steps behind Quinn and Santana.

The moment the trio walked in the room, Finn rushed up. "Don't do this."

Santana smirked. "They're not. Already got that taken care of." Off Finn's pathetic expression, she slugged him in the arm. "Thanks for helping, though. You just proved my point: we want you." Her eyes fell on Quinn's then Brittany's.

Brittany found herself standing alone after Santana and Quinn took their seats. She hurried to take hers between Artie and Santana. After a moment, her eyes jumped to Santana's thighs, which were exposed by her short, rainbow-striped shirt and knee-high boots. She'd noticed the cute garment before, but now that its wearer was seated, it had ridden up and was exposing a lot of skin. He eyes rose, taking in the sight of the tight button-up blouse Santana was wearing under a fuzzy white short jacket, the three top buttons undone, revealing cleavage, her breasts propped up by a bustier-style black tank. Brittany felt a low heat in her stomach that she hadn't felt in a while.

Santana couldn't help but notice that Brittany was unabashedly staring at her legs and chest with _that_ look in her eye. She was even rubbing her thighs together, a habit she had which Santana remembered indicated when she wanted to stay late in the showers after Cheerios practice.

_Well, look at that. Brittany's got that I-would-grind-against-a-park-bench look. I guess Artie's a triple threat: no experience, no stamina, and no lower body mobility. Brittany just realized that her boy toy can only satisfy her in one way, and now she's aching for the whole package: some Latin lovin'. Time to do what Santana Lopez does best: seduction. _

Santana stretched, pushing her chest out, causing the buttons of her shirt to strain, and the bottom to ride up, showing off a strip of midriff. She also stretched her legs by spreading her thighs, causing the hem of her already short skirt to ride up, closing her legs again as not to flash her underwear to Mr. Schue. Sure enough, Brittany's eyes were bugged out even more; her hips even grinding into her seat. Pretending to be oblivious, Santana placed her hand on top of Brittany's, which was perched tightly at the very top of her own thigh. "What's up? You seemed restless. You ready to dance?" Brittany didn't answer, just flipped her hand over to grab Santana's, caressing the back with the pad of her thumb, and dragging it between her legs.

Santana widened her eyes dramatically, as if surprised. She leaned in closer, whispering. "Oh, Sweetie, not that kind of dance. I'm not saying I wouldn't love to… _love_ to, but you've got a serious-business boyfriend, and I care about you, and I don't want to make you a cheater. So, let's just leave those thoughts for our 'me' times, okay? That's what I do."

Brittany's hips ground into the seat once more at the comment while Santana deliberately put her hands in her lap under the blonde's watchful eye. "Yeah, we should do that," she finally replied robotically. Suddenly, there was a _crack_ as Brittany's fuzzy-top pen, which she was holding in her other hand, snapped in half.

: : :

After practice, the glee club was walking with the football team towards the bathrooms to wash off their makeup, when the combined group was stopped by a group of tall boys wearing hockey jerseys.

"Hello, ladies," greeted Scott Cooper, the captain of the hockey team. Santana didn't know what possessed her to do it, but she stepped forward. The captain smirked. "I said _ladies_."

"It's okay," Santana muttered, "I was confused, too. I was just looking at that long hair and lean bodies and I got excited, because, you know, I get excited by the sight of girls. But I guess you are boys. Too bad. I guess I'm stuck with these manly men. Yuck. Let's get out of here; these guys are confusing my sexuality."

That was the last straw for Cooper, who moved forward and tossed his slushy into Santana's face. Santana barely flinched, almost expecting it. It hit too close to home for the rest of the glee club, who rushed up to surround her, staring down the hockey players, who didn't look the least bit scared. Then, the football players menacingly walked forward, eyeing the hockey players, knocking their cups out of their hands.

Azimio stated, "I think somebody is forgetting which team is on top at this school."

Cooper scoffed. "Yeah, you're so on top, you need the glee geeks to protect you!"

"Football can protect itself!" the rotund blond football player called back. _Strando, that's his name!_ realized Santana through her brain freeze, _that's been bugging me for __**days**__._ The boy named Strando lowered his voice invitingly. "But if you're free on Saturday, which you are since hockey placed—what was it?—eighth in the league? You can come watch the _real_ McKinley Titans both rock the field and rock the halftime show. You must feel so impotent."

Cooper scowled again, turning to Karofsky. "So, this is what you left us for? Cleats and queers?"

Karofsky puffed up. "Hey, you guys kicked me off because my mom kept cutting off my mullet while I slept. You're just pissed because my pounding abilities are being used on the grass instead of the ice. Maybe it's why you guys sucked this year."

"'Pounding' 'sucking.' Sounds like you've gone homo already."

Karofsky lurched forward, but was held by Azimio and Strando, who each grabbed an arm to prevent him from caving in Cooper's skull. Azimio told him, "Don't do it, man. We'd have your back and we'd leave them in a pile of dust, obviously, but let's wait until after our game. I'm not worried about getting hurt. I just don't want to be suspended for putting these rednecks in their place."

The hockey team retreated, warily eyeing the large group that outnumbered them.

Strando declared to a chorus of laughter, "Now, can we _finally_ go to the bathrooms and wash off this zombie makeup? My face itches like a hockey player's girlfriend's crotch."

: : :

Santana's decision to stand up to the hockey players had far-reaching effects that she wasn't expecting.

Firstly, the football team didn't balk at doing the halftime show number. Without the football players ditching glee, Beiste didn't cut them from the team, and there was no need for the glee girls to step up and fill up the positions on the team. In addition, the football players seemed to have called a ceasefire on the club, perhaps out of a sense of camaraderie. They weren't exactly greeting them warmly in the hallways, but a few glee clubbers were lucky enough to get a subtle head nod.

Santana was glad the girls wouldn't have to fill in for the club. Zizes was the only one who could actually keep her own on the gridiron. Mercedes had some bulk but probably not a lot of strength. Tina and Rachel had neither. And the former cheerios had strength but no bulk. Against a division-leading football team, they'd be crushed like a handful of peaches and pretzel sticks. Then there was Kurt. Despite being star kicker the previous year, Santana couldn't expect him to rejoin. The bullying, especially from Karofsky, had gotten bad and he probably shared no sympathy for the football team's inability to win the conference championship. The team had barely squeezed a win the first time; they would have been dead in the water this time. Santana wondered whose stupid idea it was in the first place. _Oh yeah, Wheezy and Man Hands._

Two more surprises awaited her, though.

One, Karofsky dropped glee. He made a deal with Coach Beiste, allowing him to keep his jacket in exchange for sitting out the champion games. Santana didn't understand his motives, but it meant that Kurt felt safe enough to return to practice, so she was only too happy to have her friend back.

Two, Brittany dropped glee.

That's how Santana found herself waiting outside the gym as Cheerios practice was ending. Most of the girls avoided her, her reputation preceding her. But Brittany stopped dead, meeting Santana's hard eyes. "I thought you tore up your resignation letter."

Brittany guiltily bowed her head. "I tore up the letter from the cannon. It was an accident, but since I still had my letter, I gave it to Mr. Schue after class. I'm staying on Cheerios. Coach… Mr. Schue's Ex-Wife made me captain."

"I know. I was there. You gave a very impressive pep talk to the rank and file."

In reality, Brittany's pep talk went like this: "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, robots and Smurfs… I, Brittany S. Pierce, am here to let you know that we will be winning Regionals this weekend. I prepared these inspirational words. 'You can only give a cat a haircut one way.' I can assure you that I've tried, and while it is hard, that lesson is true. 'There's no such thing as a boy parrot, except those who get special surgery.' Remember: 'Snow is just the feathers of baby angels' and 'gasoline is not the same as a gin and tonic'. I don't want you to be afraid, for Katy Perry's hair is not naturally blue… but I cannot attest for her down-there garden. And finally, God is on our side. I know this because I am an amateur astrologer and there are definitely seven big stars on my ceiling—there were eight in the pack but my little sister ate one—and that's definitely a sign that we'll win our seventh championship. You can't argue with that math like that the same way you can in Mr. Pinski's class. So, hi-ho, Cheerios!"

There was a certain lack of applause.

Sue looked on unimpressed. "Great pick, Crazy Town. Your selection's head is as empty as your womb."

Terri defended herself. "The girls just need a figurehead. They've got their routines down. If we should the airhead out of the cannon, the trophy's ours."

"It better be. My Cheerios are winners."

"Don't you mean _our_ Cheerios?" Sue didn't respond.

Santana continued her interrogation, "You're quitting glee? Why? You love glee."

"Maybe I love Cheerios, too."

"I had to drag you to auditions, telling you it was just gymnastics and dancing. You hate that I'm mean to people, and now you'll be expected to be the meanest bitch of all. Why would you stay?"

"To protect you!" Brittany admitted, "Quinn left, so it's up to me to keep the other Cheerios from being mean to you."

Santana was stunned into silence. "You're amazing, you know that? I don't deserve you. But neither does Sue. Tell me you didn't sign the release."

"I don't remember doing it, but Sue showed me my signature."

"She forged it. If you don't drop Cheerios, they're putting you in that cannon. I can't protect you if you don't stick up for yourself." With that she walked away, leaving Brittany pensive.

: : :

The night of the game finally arrived. The football team was doing well, winning 28 to 17 by halftime. Brittany still hadn't shown up.

She walked right up to Finn as he got off the field. "I need your help. I can't convince Brittany to quit Cheerios. Sue's gonna fire her out of a _cannon_."

"I don't know what I can do."

"I'll help," Sam offered, walking up, "quitting Cheerios was the smartest thing Quinn's ever done. She skips one practice and she's actually nice for an hour straight."

Seeing this, Finn added, "I'm in."

"Great, let's go. Marching band only has the field to themselves for fifteen minutes, and I'm not missing out on a solo."

They started walking, only to be joined by Quinn. "Where are you going?"

"I'm getting B back."

"Not without me, you're not. This hero complex doesn't mesh well with your bitch complex."

Kurt ran up. "Where are we going? I had Blaine drive down from Westerville to watch our performance. Tell me we're not skipping it."

"You're gonna get to show off to your Snuggly Bear. I gotta get my girl first."

"Fine. But did you have to wait until the last minute? Why didn't you just sabotage the cannon?"

"You don't think I didn't consider that. It'd be like cutting the brake line to get someone to stop driving."

Soon, the rest of the club joined them. Out in the parking lot, Brittany was staring at the cannon fearfully when the group of eleven arrived.

"Brittany," Santana called, "we need to get you in costume and makeup for the halftime performance."

"Santana, I told you. I'm staying in Cheerios."

"You're an idiot." Brittany turned around, her face a mix of anger and sadness. Santana continued, "I don't care what you're reasons are, or how noble. I'm not going on that field to perform unless you're there with me, and neither are any of these guys." There was a chorus of agreements, the loudest being Artie. _Way to contribute, Boyfriend of the Year._

"Without me, the Cheerios will lose Regionals."

"Without you, New Directions will lose _our_ Regionals. And it will be all your fault that we don't go to New York and we'll all be very sad. Now, tell me honestly, which team do you care more about? Who do you want to be with?"

Before she could answer, Coach Sylvester walked up. "Brittany, get on the bus, you've got no time for an orgy."

Brittany looked Santana in the eye, "Sorry, Coach, but you know what they say about turtles with no sunglasses." Sue apparently did not know. "I wish you the best of luck without me."

Sue actually began to tremble. "Y-you can't do this to me, Brittany! We're sunk without you. Sandbags was completely expendable." Santana rolled her eyes. "Losing Q was hard, but we'll manage, but _only_ if we have you and the cannon stunt! I have no performance without you!"

"Sucks for you," Brittany replied, "Let's go. If I'm gonna be dead, I'd rather be a sexy dead vampire."

"Zombie," Tina corrected.

Terri walked up at that moment. "Where's Brittany going? Wheels are up in five minutes."

"We lost her to your curly-haired ex-hubby's musical train wreck. Your Cheerios have a Regionals to win with no prize-winning stunt, and you've lost two captains in as many days. Good luck with that."

"They're _our_ Cheerios."

"Sorry, Bum Ovaries, as principal of William McKinley High School, I have an obligation to see my Titans win the conference championship. Consider yourself promoted."

Terri turned to see Becky Jackson watching Sue leave. "Becky, you're head Cheerio."

"Thanks, Coach Delmonico. But I'm going to have to quit while I'm on top. Mrs. Sylvester said she always has a place for me as her private aide. But thanks for the honor! It'll be going on my résumé."

Terri turned to the squad, who was looking at her for direction. "The first person to raise their hand gets to be head cheerleader."

Ten seconds later, twenty-two uniform-clad girls were punching, biting, and scratching each other in a large dog-pile.

: : :

_It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark  
Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart,  
You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it  
Heads will roll, heads will roll!  
You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes  
You're paralyzed_

Karofsky was waiting at the corner of the entrance ramp when the glee club and the Titans were racing off the field after their halftime performance. He grabbed Kurt, covering his mouth, and pulled him under the bleachers, only managing to keep hold of him for a few seconds before he struggled out of his arms. Kurt tried calling out for help, but the roar of the crowd was too loud. He was paralyzed with fear as his eyes met Karofsky's.

* * *

A/N: So, I'm definitely not going to be able to finish before Tuesday's episode, but I'm caught up enough that you can expect a new chapter every 48 hours.


	14. This Is Goodbye

Doing It Right: Chapter 14  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. Kurt's issues with Karofsky come to a head, and Brittany and Artie try to find common ground.  
Spoilers: 2x11 "The Sue Sylvester Shuffle" and echoes of 2x08 "Furt"

A/N: On the one hand, messing with canon has really allowed me to show a different perspective on the events of these episodes. On the other hand, some things just keep cropping up again.

* * *

Chapter 14: This is Goodbye

Kurt was paralyzed with fear as Dave Karofsky pulled him underneath the bleachers.

Karofsky was on edge but not threatening. "Look, Hummel, I'm not gonna kill you. Since we're obviously going to win the game, I'd really like to play in the championship round. It'd mean a lot to my dad."

"W-w-why are you telling me this?"

"I've been benched until next year. But I figure if I make up that week in glee club, maybe Coach'll reconsider. I don't care if you pussy out and don't show up, but if I see you there…" he muttered menacingly before his voice softened, "…you can consider our deal temporarily back on. You don't talk to me. I don't talk to you."

Kurt's nerves calmed considerably. "I saw you on the sidelines, watching us. You were dancing."

"Was not!"

"Not all the way, no, but you were moving to the beat. You wanted to be out there. You think you'll like glee."

"Shut up."

"Fine. Come to glee next week. I can't promise you'll be welcomed warmly. In fact, I can guarantee you won't. But luckily for you, Mr. Schue is too understanding for his own good. He sees the good in people. Even when there isn't any."

"I'm gonna be in your faggy little glee club come Monday. I will happily harass you so much you're afraid to come to your favorite activity."

"I don't get you, Karofsky. Why do you hate me so much? Quinn tells me you're not part of her old Bible-thumper church. Is your dad some kind of horrible bigot?"

"Don't talk about my dad! What about your dad? What's his deal? Apple not fall far from the tree? He obviously has no problem with you. And didn't he get married like last year to some haggy lady?"

Kurt didn't let that go. "I had a mother, you idiot! And a beautiful one at that. Where do you think I came from, or have you been sleeping through biology class your entire life? She died of cancer when I was eight!" Karofsky jerked away at Kurt's tone. "He married another _beautiful_ woman, one who raised a very understanding boy named Finn Hudson all by herself. I pity you, Dave. Somehow both Finn and I turned out spectacularly despite having one parent each, but you've got two and they messed you up completely."

"There's _nothing_ wrong with me!" Dave screamed through gritted teeth.

"Then why do you hate me?"

"I don't hate you!"

"Then why throw drinks at me? Why push me into lockers? Why call me names? What could ever possess you to be such an absolute _dick_?"

Karofsky grabbed Kurt's face and pressed his lips against the smaller boy's. Kurt just stumbled backwards with a nauseated look on his face. His wiped his lips with the back of his hand and spit into the dirt. With utter loathing, he stated, "A closet case. Seriously? That's your excuse? I'll have you know I was saving these lips for someone else. Someone who doesn't hate himself. Someone who doesn't look in the mirror and wish he was dead. Is that why you wanted to be on the field with us? So you could put on this zombie makeup and finally see yourself the way you wish you were? Goodbye, cruel world?"

"Screw you, Hummel."

Kurt held up his hands defensively. "You're right, Karofsky. That was uncalled for." After a few second, he tried to relate, "I was in the same place you were a few years ago. I was ashamed of who I was. I thought my father would hate me if he found out. I thought my friends would abandon me."

"My father _will_ hate me. My friends _will _abandon me. And that's why I'm not gay. I'm not. I didn't just kiss you."

"You did, Dave. And the sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be."

"I didn't."

"You did!"

"No, I didn't!" He shoved Kurt backwards into the pebble-filled dirt. "I will kill you if you spread these lies!"

The next thing he knew, Karofsky was being slammed into the nearest concrete support by Burt Hummel. The area was soon swarmed by others: Carole Hummel, Will Schuester, Finn and the rest of New Directions.

"You did _not_ just shove my boy to the ground and threaten to kill him, did you?"

Finn grabbed onto his stepfather's arms. "Burt, don't do this."

"What the hell, Finn? You saw what he did to Kurt! Why aren't you the one taking out this piece of trash?"

After being helped to his feet by Puck, Santana, and Mercedes, Kurt called out, "Dad, he's right. Don't do this. Finn _has_ been protecting me, and he's been smart about it. You can't harm a student or you'll be worse off than him."

Burt pulled away, keeping his eyes focused on Karofsky, who was adjusting his varsity jacket.

Kurt explained, "We'll take this to Principal Sylvester. He's not worth our time. I just want to go home." He turned his eyes to the rest of the club. "Thank you, everybody. I'm blessed to be surrounded by so many people who care."

: : :

Artie was lying on his back on Brittany's bed, his girlfriend on top of him, kissing. Brittany pulled back and he lifted his head to chase the lips. "What happened to Kurt tonight was really scary. Karofsky was really mean to him."

Artie, not happy about the change in activity, replied calmly, "Yeah, it really sucks. Karofsky's a total bastard. He needs to be in jail. Or the zoo."

"I like the zoo. I wouldn't want to go if Karofsky was there."

After a long pause, Artie replied, "Yeah, me neither."

Brittany leaned back down to start the kissing again, but pulled away again after a few seconds. "Do you think we should call him?"

"Do you have ADD?"

"I used to take medicine for that. But Brett McCauley bought it all from me. Should we call him now?"

"Brett?"

"Kurt."

"Let's wait until tomorrow. I think he's probably got enough support already."

Brittany frowned. "Aren't you like one of his best friends?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, no. I mean, Mercedes, Tina, Kurt, and I; we used to be pretty tight, because we were the original glee kids."

"What about Rachel?"

"Eh, we didn't like her so much. Anyway, we were both close to the girls, but Kurt and I just didn't share many interests outside music. Mercedes and him had clothes and shopping. And he and Tina had dancing. Most of his interests were… kind of…"

"…gay?"

"Yes, but like honestly gay, like fashion and gay culture."

"I like fashion. And I think gay people are super-cool."

"Don't get me wrong. I support Kurt 110 percent, but all that stuff doesn't interest me."

"I'm bisexual. That doesn't interest you?"

Artie leered humorously. "No, that interests me very much. Feel free to tell me any stories about girls you've had wild sex with," he noted, half-kidding.

Brittany replied honestly, "It's really only Santana," she admitted quietly, "I've kissed most of the girls on the Cheerios and touched some of their boobs, but they were always drunk. They freaked out when I went under the skirt."

"Actually, I'd rather not hear about you and Santana."

"Why not? Most guys like those stories. Puck asks, like, every day."

"Because… because Santana's a _lesbian_. She could like fall in love with you."

Brittany tilted her head, "So, I… could… fall in love with her, too. That's what bisexual means, right?"

"You're right, I know. I just… when I think of bisexual chicks, I think of Angelina Jolie or Megan Fox or Anna Paquin. They're super-hot, but they're all married to dudes. It's just weird to think of them like _in love_ with or _married_ other women, like Ellen and Portia." Seeing Brittany frowning, he asked, "Can we talk about something else? Or, not talk?"

"We'll finish making out later. If this is a serious-business relationship, we should talk. Oprah said so. I mean, we only talked on the phone like once while I was at my _opa_ and _oma_'s over Christmas and we only texted to say good-night."

"You're right, babe." There was a long silence before Artie asked, "I don't suppose you have a favorite video game?"

Brittany's eyes lit up. "I used to like Farmville, but I kept killing all my crops faster than was supposed to be possible. I even got an award for it; they called me 'The Pla-goo'. I think it's, like, African for 'farmer' or something. I also play Animal Crossing with my little sister. Oh, and I _love_ Dance Dance Revolution!"

"Uh… I'm not a fan of the first two and literally can't play the last one." He looked down at his legs. "But… dance! We both love dance. Why have we never talked about this before? What's your favorite type of dance?"

"Hip-hop, I guess. I kind of like them all."

"Well, have you studied Afrika Bambaataa or the Rock Steady Crew?"

"Uh, no. I don't _study_ dance. Dance isn't like school."

Artie slid off the bed and into his chair, and pulled his laptop out of his bag. "There are _styles_ of hip-hop dancing, Brittany." He pulled up YouTube on his web browser. "Here, this is the Rock Steady Crew performing. Most people call it 'break-dancing' but if you're in the know, it's actually 'b-boying'."

Brittany watched for all of five seconds before commenting, "Yeah, I've done all that before. I just never learned the names."

Artie showed her another dozen clips of hip hop dancers, only for Brittany to reply plainly that she tried dances similar to all of them before at her dance classes or with Mike. "I don't know why you care so much about who danced which moves and whatnot. Dance isn't supposed to be like history, it's about _feelings_ and knowing your body and just letting it move to music."

Artie frowned. "It's not like I don't understand where you're coming from, Brittany, but there's so much more to dance that just _doing_ it. It's like genealogy."

"Is that the science of—?"

Artie didn't waste a second. "Genies? No." Brittany frowned. He passionately continued, "It's like a big family. The 'tango' is the child of European ballroom dances and African slave dances. And today there's a dozen sister dances of just the tango: the Argentine tango, the Uruguayan tango, the ballroom dango, the Tango Nuevo… there's even the Finnish tango. That has nothing to do with 'finishing' a tango, by the way. It means it was developed in Finland."

"Is that where mermaids are from?"

"Why do I bother? Am I boring you?"

Brittany nodded reluctantly. "I think it's really cool that dance can be all nerdy for you. But school is _hard_ for me and I don't want to think of dance as _more_ schoolwork."

"In that case, I'll just watch you dance. That's fun. Anyway, we're back to square one on conversation topics. Current events? I don't suppose you read the newspaper?"

"Luann is dating a boy she likes but her best friend Bernice thinks they're not spending enough time together."

"How about movies?"

"I love movies! Funny movies about people falling in love or getting drunk are my favorite. Or maybe Disney cartoon movies. They always have funny animals. And they're always love stories. It's like the best of all four worlds. "

"I find their plots tend to be shallow. It's not really their fault; they're based on common myths and fairy tales. And they're directed towards children, so they tend to take away the harsh endings of many of the original stories. The morals are stripped away so that the prince can win the princess."

"Mulan wasn't a princess. She was like a ninja or something."

Artie exposited, "_Mulan_ was Tina's favorite film for that reason exactly. She was a heroine, through and through. And so was her love interest. And their romance was a minor point near the end. She said that it was the first time that the _woman_ won the heart of the _man_. I'm sorry; I'm talking about Tina, aren't I?"

"I don't care. Tina's my friend. You two used to date. Are you saying you don't like Disney movies?"

"No, no, I do; they're just… not my favorite genre, and I don't mean to disparage the films. They're classics. Disney has always been on the cutting edge of animation. For _Snow White_, they eschewed the use of rotoscoping, showing that animation didn't have to project naturalism, that cartoon characters could function on their own. _Beauty and the Beast_ used computer animation to break out of the 2-D box, allowing them to mimic camerawork that until that time was impossible. And then _Toy Story_ obviously set the bar almost impossibly high for full-feature computer animation." Off Brittany's dazed look, "I sound like a teacher, don't I?"

Brittany just nodded. "I'm sorry, but I feel like you're looking at the wrong things. Movies, and just Disney movies, they… they go together. You always have serious, brave people and funny people, and sometimes the people are animals. And sometimes the bad guys are really evil, but sometimes they're just hurt and sad. And every movie just mixes things together in new ways, so that instead of always making a cake, you'll sometimes make a lasagna."

"For your Hollywood films, yes. A film is constrained only by the imagination of its director. I mean, German Expressionism brought us films that broke every rule about setting, _mis-en-scene_, pacing… I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

Brittany just nodded. "Can we go back to making out now?"

Artie wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. "Yeah, help me out of my chair, Supergirl."

: : :

Sue motioned to the chair in front of the principal's desk. "Have a seat, Handmaid's Tale."

Terri took a seat. "You wanted to see me?"

"So, how was Regionals?"

"We placed third, which I think is really good given—"

Sue cut her off. "Yeah, all I heard was 'I'm a massive failure with lame excuses.'"

"Look, once the turnover calms down and the girls' various bite wounds heal, we'll be ready to take Nationals by storm next year. You left all your binders in your office and we'll of course give you credit for the routines we do."

"Your optimism is wholly unwarranted but absolutely delicious, so I'll let you get back."

"You called me into your office just to tell me that? Seems kind of needless."

"When Sue Sylvester does something, it's not needless!" Sue calmed herself down, straightening her three-piece pant suit composed of track suit fabric. "No, I came to alert you that both your salary and budget have been slashed 20 percent."

"Why?"

"You're an utter failure. If not for the fact the school board has established a hiring freeze, you'd be out on your plump little ass." Terri leaned in her seat and looked at her hips. "But, as an administrator, it's my job to torment the weak, so I took that fraction of your budget and placed it where I knew it would hurt worse."

"You wouldn't!"

"I didn't think I was capable of such insanity myself, but Sue Sylvester never backs down from a challenge, even one she issues to herself. Oh, yes, I augmented glee club's budget like you falsely augmented your midsection."

"Okay, seriously, the infertility jokes are kind of wearing thin. Will seems to think I have many more glaring flaws."

"You're excused."

"Bye," Terri groaned, fumbling out of her chair.

: : :

Santana once again found herself dragging Karofsky into an empty classroom. "You know, Karofsky, I thought we had a deal that you were going to lay off Kurt."

"He broke our deal, not me."

"I seem to recall _we_ had a different deal."

"So? I slushied the twink a month ago and you didn't do nothing."

"So your defense is that I _waited_ to accuse you of rape. 'Cause that _never _happens."

"I seem to recall a little secret of yours coming out."

"I'm gay. How 'bout we _all_ say it?" Karofsky's eyes shot open. "Oh, yeah, Kurt told me. I'm willing to keep it a secret, for now."

"I'm tired of you threatening me!"

"Well, I'm tired of you acting like a four-year-old on the playground pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes. Except we're not on the playground, are we? And what you're doing isn't teasing, it's torture."

"I'm not afraid to hit a girl."

"Why would you be? You think you're a man?" Karofsky stalked forward. "That wasn't a gay joke, but, yes, beat me up. Not only will that corroborate my story, but it'll give you an actual crime you've committed if I drop the rape charges. And since someone repeated the fifth grade, I think someone won't even get the privilege of being tried in juvenile court, will he? What's the jail time for a hate crime these days?"

Karofsky smiled evilly. "You're getting your stories mixed up, or are you? Are we talking about me shoving gay Hummel? That's minor. Or are we talking about allegedly raping your lesbian ass? _Or_, is your plan to out me?"

"My plan is multiple choice."

"Fine, pick one. Either I pushed a kid who happened to be gay down, and I get a slightly harder slap on the wrist. Or a lesbian claims I'm gay. Or a lesbian claims that I raped her. I don't see either of those last two accusations sticking in this town."

Santana's face dropped. "You willing to risk that?"

"Yes." And then he walked out.

: : :

After interviewing everyone in the glee club, Sue called a meeting between the Hummels and the Karofskys. Kurt came with Burt and Carole. Dave brought his father and a lawyer.

The lawyer explained, "My client experienced what is commonly known as a 'gay panic'."

"You're kidding me, right?" Kurt cried, "That's the defense you use to try to get away with hate crimes. It's appropriate and it doesn't work anymore."

"A 'gay panic' is the reaction to an encounter that could be considered paramount to sexual harassment. My client felt unwanted attention from this boy."

"Unwanted?" Kurt laughed. Karofsky sneered at him, so Kurt pulled up. "I'm not the one who ripped open another boy's pants."

"Are you claiming that my client is gay? That's slander. The Karofskys could sue."

Burt put his hand on Kurt's leg. Kurt shoved it off. "I rescind the comment. It was made in jest, obviously. I can't say the same about Karofsky threatening to _kill_ me. There are witnesses."

Sue piped in, "I have fourteen willing to swear an oath to such."

"My client has something to say concerning those charges."

Dave next words were rehearsed. "I didn't mean my threat. I was angry at the time and I apologize for both my words and my actions."

Burt cried out, "You can't believe that."

Sue quieted him down. "I'm sorry, Burt, but whether I believe his apology is sincere or not, officially Mr. Karofsky has shown remorse, and without a consistent pattern of threats, I can't legally claim that he is a danger to your son, and therefore I have no grounds for expulsion."

Kurt screamed, "He still attacked me."

Burt jumped in, pointing, "You can't deny THAT!"

Sue smiled. "I cannot. Since this is not his first incident, he will receive a two-week suspension. Coach Beiste has also suspended him from the football team. The other coaches have made similar claims that he will be unable to join any other athletic team until next year. And only if his behavior is impeccable for the rest of the semester."

"That's a slap on the wrist," claimed Carole.

"It's much more than that, ma'am," the Karofskys' lawyer explained, "David's record will show this offense for the rest of his high school career. Any football recruiters will be able to see that he did not participate in any qualifying championship matches, which will hurt his chances for athletic scholarships after high school. David's grades have been falling as of late, and it will become difficult for him to get into a college. The Karofskys are not as well-off as yourselves."

"Don't give me that wealth privilege line. We're hardly rich. I work eighty-hour weeks to keep my garage in the black in a down economy. I still find this ruling unfair."

Sue turned to Burt. "I assure you that I have Kurt's best interests at heart. Understand that your son will be safe for the rest of the year. One incident, no matter how minor, _will_ get constitute a pattern of violent behavior and _will_ get Mr. Karofsky expelled _tout de suite_, so I expect if he has one functioning brain cell left in that football-damaged noggin of his, he will steer clear of your son from now on, unless he's looking to say _sayonara_ to McKinley. Now, if you'll excuse me, Kurt, Mr. and Mrs. Hummel. I have to speak with Dave and his family and his _representation_ alone concerning his punishment. This is one area where they law is on his side. He gets privacy."

Once outside his office, Burt turned to Carole, who nodded at his unspoken request. "Listen, Kurt, one more incident is two too many. There's something wrong with that boy and I don't want you within ten miles of him. You mentioned that private school in Westerville that your new friend goes to?"

"Dalton Academy."

"Yeah. I know it's expensive, but I'm willing to send you there as long as you need. We'll find the money. Had we known this was going to happen, your mother and I would have postponed our honeymoon."

"I'm glad you didn't. Listen, I have an idea. Blaine told me there was a way around the financial issue, at least for the short-term. If a student has been displaced from a school for any reason; there's a reduced rate to attend Dalton as a correspondence student for up to three months."

"How does that help?"

"It's usually reserved for schools where there has been some sort of disaster or there's an emergency where the student's family has to move, but there's a loophole."

"Loophole?" Carole asked.

Twenty minutes later, Kurt was standing before Principal Sylvester again. He plainly declared, "Principal Sylvester, you're a mediocre cheerleading coach."

Sue regally replied, "I hereby declare you, Kurt Hummel, expelled for gross insubordination. You may provide me with a written apology within the next 90 days and the charges will be dropped and your record expunged. Enjoy Dalton Academy, Gelfling. Godspeed and I hope to see you soon."

: : :

Kurt walked into the choir room, wearing an ensemble of black clothing.

"Whoa, did someone die?" Mercedes asked.

"This is my mourning wear, Mercedes," Kurt explained.

"Wait, am I not supposed to be here yet?" Brittany looked at her watch, and then showed it to Artie. "I don't know what this says."

"It says your watch is on upside-down. And out of batteries."

"And your sister's," Santana added, admiring the Powerpuff Girls on the background.

Kurt cleared his throat. "Fellow New Directions members, this is goodbye. Due to the recent threats against me by one Dave Karofsky, I have decided to take a temporarily sabbatical from McKinley High. I'll be attending Dalton Academy for the next few weeks."

There was a chorus of surprised reactions.

"Did you know about this?" accused Rachel to Finn.

"Yeah," Finn replied, "we had a family meeting about it last night. We have to start shopping at Sam's Club again, but I'm cool with it. My mom's like an artist when it comes to Ramen noodles. Kurt wanted to tell everyone in person."

"Will you be back for Regionals, Kurt?" Mr. Schue asked, "You've been gunning for a solo for weeks."

"I don't know. I hope so, but I can't guarantee it. Regionals is in two months and I could be gone for as long as three. I will be joining the Warblers while I'm there, to keep my voice strong."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the only reason," Santana quipped. Kurt frowned at her, but it turned into a cocky smile, which was eagerly returned by the Latina, who added a cat claw gesture.

Kurt continued, "And since they're out of the competition, feel free to pass along your ideas for our set list. I'll keep a wide selection of songs in my back pocket, and if I return with sufficient time for rehearsal, I'll happily perform a number for Regionals."

"Of course," Mr. Schue agreed.

"We'll do more than that," Rachel chimed in, "I will send you videos of me singing every song we consider."

"Aw," Kurt replied, genuinely touched, "that would be great! I'll totally pretend you have no ulterior motives!"

"You're the best, Kurt!"

Mike added, "Brittany and I will record all the choreography for you, too."

Brittany offered, "Artie will film it. He likes filming things. Maybe you can do it the Georgian elitism style you keep talking about."

"German expressionism?" Tina muttered, hardly aware of herself. She smiled sheepishly at Artie, then at Mike, and finally to Brittany.

Santana sat back in her seat. _Well, it looks like this operation was a failure. I guess in the meantime I might be able to work on Karofsky, getting his double-wide ass out of the closet, or find him some new beaten-down demographic to terrorize. _

"I do have one request," Kurt asked. Mr. Schue nodded. "This week's assignment will _not_ be about saying farewell to me, or about how much you'll miss me, or whatever. Your assignment will be to start picking kick-ass songs that will whoop our competition at Regionals."

"I think we can manage that."

"Actually, one more thing. Could I borrow Quinn and Mercedes for about five minutes?"

Without receiving permission, Quinn and Mercedes jumped from their seats, and followed Kurt just outside the door, where he began talking to them in a serious tone. To distract the rest of the class from watching, Mr. Schue called on the group to start throwing out ideas for Regionals.

Rachel was still listing solos she could sing when the trio returned to the room. Kurt remained active in the brainstorming process throughout rehearsal. Santana, as usual, remained silent. As Santana was leaving at the end of practice, Kurt's eyes followed her. He asked Mr. Schue if he was staying for a little while, and after confirming that he was, he grabbed Santana on the way out.

"Zorra, can we talk?"

"You bet. Is this about how I screwed up?"

"You didn't do anything but go above and beyond the call of friendship. I'm pretty sure you committed a felony for me."

"If Karofsky can get away with threatening to _kill_ you in front of a dozen witnesses by saying he's sorry, I wouldn't be too worried about hearsay against a pretty 16-year-old girl threatening to claim rape, in _private_. If I were white, the only thing I'd have to worry about is being offered an interview by Katie Couric."

"Are you still getting slushied?"

"Once the first week back to school. The bullies have been laying low since Karofsky's discipline hearing. Plus, I think the football team kind of likes us now. It's not gonna last long, but we'll take the reprieve while we have it."

"Do you think I'm a coward? For running away?"

"When I was seven, my dad decided to do a three-month trip to Guatemala with Doctors Without Borders. My mom didn't want the family to be apart for so long, so we went with him over summer break. I hated it. Anyway, the politics there were supposed to be reasonably stable, but some corrupt election or something happened, you know how these things go, and a bunch of riots broke out. So, less than two months in, my dad packed us up and we got out of dodge. We later found out that the clinic he was working at suffered almost no damage. Nobody there was hurt. We would have been perfectly fine as long as we stayed inside. My dad doesn't regret for a second getting us out of there. It wasn't worth the risk, he said."

"I get what you're saying."

Pointedly, Santana declared, "You're singing with us at Regionals. You can make out with your boy toy in your own time. Glee club will take care of Karofsky."

"Just don't get yourself suspended."

"Stipulation refused. We need you. You owe Ms. Holliday a solo." Her eyes brightened. "Oh, you didn't think I noticed, did you?" She grabbed him in a hug. When a passing student looked on with curiosity, Santana lamented the total annihilation of her "rep".

: : :

Sue picked up her phone. "Hello, General Motors? This is Sue Sylvester. I need to speak with Dan Akerson. What do you mean, do I have an appointment? Did you not hear who I was? Sue Sylvester! I happen to know you're owned by the U.S. government, and I am an honorary diplomat to the State of Myanmar. If I can't talk to your CEO, I demand the names and numbers of every person on your board of directors! Hello?" She frowned. "Adios."

Forty-five minutes later, Sue was slouched on her desk. "Hello, is this Joe Malarky of Malarky GMC Buick of Lima?" She sat up straight. "It is? Well, Joey—Can I call you Joey? No?—You see, Joey, I've got a very talented group of singers at my school? Yes, McKinley? You've heard of them? That's odd. You have a daughter on the JV Cheerios? Excellent. She likes the new coach better? Well, that's just super. I'm sure she'll enjoy a long career with the squad." Sue scribbled a note in her journal. "Anyway, they're a talented bunch of rascals and they'd just _love_ to do a commercial for your dealership. Oh, no, don't worry about paying them. I'm sure they'll take merchandise in lieu. Oh, yeah, doesn't have to be new. Anything off the pre-owned lot that's been sitting there for twelve years. That'd be… super. _Ciao_."

Sue sprinted down the choir room and entered without fanfare.

"Sue, can I—?"

Sue unabashedly cut him off, "Have a seat. I'm your boss." Will rolled his eyes and complied. Becky scrambled in after her, holding a glossy poster rolled up.

"New Directions, I have an announcement for you. Completely unsolicited, the Malarky GMC dealership in town has asked, nay, _begged_, for your little glee club to do a commercial for them. And that's not the best part!" She turned to Becky, who looked up and smiled.

"Oh!" Becky replied, unrolling the advertising poster, revealing a picture of the sales lot with the Cheerios seated on several cars above a yearly calendar. Front and center were Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, but their faces had been vandalized with sharpies.

"You'll each be receiving a vehicle."

The club burst into hysterics. Santana was shrieking in her seat, shaking and weeping. Brittany poked her face repeatedly. Puck started pumping his fists the air, which let to some sort of improvised karate routine. Rachel was prancing around the room, her arms extended, singing to music only she could hear.

_See the U.S.A.  
In your Chevrolet_

"That goes for you, Orphan Annie," Sue remarked, "I've already called a tow truck to dispose of that jalopy you drag to school every morning, bringing down our property values. I suggest something with a high ceiling as not to mess up your impeccable hair."

"Sue, you know we went through all this last year with the mattress place."

Rachel stopped spinning on the piano, apparently waking from the daydream long after the rest of the club had turned their attention back to the front of the room. "Won't appearing a commercial revoke our amateur status and making us ineligible for glee competitions?"

Sue heatedly cursed, "A pox on all of you." She and Becky turned tail and left.

"Are you guys going to blame this on me somehow?" Rachel asked.

"Well, we are teenagers," Puck pointed out, "and my mom's still pissed at me 'cause her Volvo still smells like a Philly Cheese sandwich since she got it back from the impound. I could have replaced it for her."

"Santa didn't bring my little sister a Corvette for Christmas like she asked for," Brittany added.

: : :

Santana had been carefully watching Finn and Quinn for the past week, looking for any signs that they were starting an illicit relationship, but instead was treated to way too many make-out sessions with their designated significant others. She finally concluded that there was no chance of their reunion. Finn was still happily with Rachel, and so he had no broken heart willing to stray. Quinn had no special adoration of Finn, because he hadn't been the one to play hero and get her to quit the Cheerios (and make those eyes at her).

Best of all, it seemed Brittany and Artie's relationship was growing rockier. Santana had been dressing up each day in short skirts and tight jeans and tighter shirts. One Wednesday, she'd even worn a demi-cup bra under her tank, letting the cold weather leave particular indentions in her top, and Brittany was so flummoxed after they met up at their lockers that she forgot to go to her first period class. Santana also playfully flirted with Brittany constantly, nothing any more overt than when they were still best friends with benefits. Brittany reacted accordingly, sitting restlessly in her seat and making frequent trips to the bathrooms. Her hands were always mindlessly rubbing her arms and thighs, and pretty soon those hands started reaching out for Santana's hips or shoulders. Santana would playfully smack her hand away each time, saying she was worse than the boys.

She assumed the dam had finally burst when Brittany shoved her into Ms. Castle's empty classroom. (It was often empty because the school only had need for two periods of astronomy, and as badminton coach, she taught the senior blow-off classes in other wings.) Brittany laid the sweetest, most intense kiss that Santana had ever experienced, thought she had to admit she'd been deprived of them for some time.

Santana pushed her away softly. "As nice as that was, Brittany, we can't be together while you're still with Artie." She trailed a finger down Brittany's arm, pouting with her maximum-strength bedroom eyes.

Resolutely, Brittany explained, "It was a good-bye kiss. You were right, Santana. I have to treat Artie right."

Santana was sure her heart had just beat so hard it had burst right through her chest.

Brittany was still talking. "…and that means I can't think about you all the time."

And suddenly there was a spark of hope. "'All the time'?" Santana teased.

"I'm serious. It _hurts_ to be around you, because I want so bad to get our lady-kisses on, and then I feel worse for thinking that because it's like I'm cheating on Artie in my head. He's a nice guy, Santana; I can't do this to him."

Santana chose her words carefully. "Brittany, you're not doing anything to him. You're like everybody else in the world. You see a hot guy or a pretty girl and your body reacts. It's natural. As long as you're not, like, in love with me, Artie will understand. If not, you know what to do."

Had Santana not been watching Brittany's face so intently, she would have missed the momentarily fear that flashed across it. "You think I should tell him?"

"If it's weighing down on you, it might help to confess what you're feeling. You two can work it out from there." It was a risky gamble, but Santana would prefer a volatile relationship over a serene one.

Brittany rambled, "Okay. Listen, can we take a break? I mean, not like that, I just… can I be the one who says when we hang out? I need some space, but I don't want to, like, not be friends—this isn't goodbye—I just… I'm confused."

"I'm here for you, always. If it seems like I'm tempting you, I'm sorry." She left out the confession of her intentions in her apology. "Follow your heart," she instructed, placing her hand on Brittany's breast.

Brittany pulled away from the hand, but didn't give Santana an accusing glare. She smiled weakly and gave a mumbled "thanks" before racing out of the room with saying goodbye.

_So, it looks like the battle for Brittany's heart has officially begun. Legless McGeek doesn't even realize he should be fighting. _ _Advantage: Santana Lopez. _As Santana stared up at the planet models hanging from the ceiling, she thought about gravity.

* * *

A/N: I love and hate everything about the conversation I put Brittany and Artie through. It's always been my head-canon that Brittany is deeper than she looks but doesn't have the vocabulary to express it intellectually. I fear that I made Artie come off as shallow or Brittany as brain-dead. Then again, it's mostly just the fact that while I'm proud of my writing, I'm pretty insecure about whether the subtext I weave into it comes out. Chapter 13 was chock to the gills full of parallels and I don't know if anyone caught them. And this chapter had a very nice recurring motif. A thousand points to anyone who catches it.

So, yeah, I don't know if anyone noticed, but for the past few chapters I was writing as if Karofsky didn't kiss Kurt all those months ago. Why? It's one of those butterfly effect things that I never addressed. I guess more or less, with Santana's support on the duets assignment, Kurt felt a little less hopeless while at Dalton, making Blaine feel a little less like he needed to protect Kurt, making Kurt a little less courageous in confronting Karofsky, making Karofsky a little less hot-blooded. I didn't want to leave that as a gaping plot hole.

And I'm not so naïve to think none of you would notice I ripped off the Chevy commercial. I kind of split this episode unevenly, so even though I had a lot of original material to work with, the last chapter was much longer than this one, and I needed to bridge some plot holes anyway. I thought this chapter could use some levity, too.


	15. But I Can't Help It

Doing It Right: Chapter 15  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. Love is in the air, but it is in the air for Brittany and Santana?  
Spoilers: 2x12 "Silly Love Songs"

A/N: I thought I'd bring you a chapter to cleanse your palate of the most recent episode.

The recurring motif from the previous chapter was saying "goodbye." It was in the title, so I'm doing the same thing _Glee_ does (like in "Home" or "Funk"), just a little less bluntly. The sneaky part was how Sue never used "goodbye" but used several alternatives to it ("sayonara", "adios", "ciao", etc.).

So, the last chapter didn't have very much Brittany/Santana interaction. My apologies. I'm juggling several plotlines. The rest of the series will have their relationship as the A-plot.

* * *

Chapter 15: But I Can't Help It

Santana had her first dream in months; she dreamed of Brittany, of course. Up until now, she had been time-skipping the nights, but tonight she was remained lucid (relatively) during sleep. In fact, after the harrowing seventeen-day skip, she hadn't skipped once during her waking hours. She was living in real time 24/7.

Santana's new favorite hobby was glaring at Karofsky and giving him the _I'm-watching-you_ gesture. He'd tripped over his feet the first few times she'd done it, and the new few times just looked perplexed, and now he just rolled his eyes at her. The glee club had followed her lead. Rachel cornered him every couple of days and delivered a long monologue about tolerance. Puck lunged at him threateningly every time they passed in the halls. Sam and Finn would discuss the upcoming championship game in loud voices in his presence. Mercedes got her passive-aggressiveness on and flat out told him things like, "I'm praying for you, Dave."

: : :

_I Want To Love You (P.Y.T.)  
Pretty Young Thing  
You Need Some Lovin' (T.L.C.)  
Tender Lovin' Care  
I'll Take You There_

_Pretty Young Things, Repeat After Me  
I Said Na Na Na, Na Na Na  
Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na  
Na Na Na, Na Na Na  
I Said Na Na Na Na Na, Na Na Na Na Na  
I'll Take You There_

Artie was singing Michael Jackson and Mike was dancing like it was the last time he would get the chance. The difference in the reactions of their respective serenade recipients was astounding: Tina bounced in her seat while clapping, screaming the _na na_'s with passion like the rest of the class; Brittany, on the other hand, just smiled politely, desperately trying to look excited. The girl wasn't even dancing in her seat to the music; the girl who was _Brittany_. When Mike finally coaxed Tina out of her seat, Brittany reluctantly popped up behind her, giving Santana a gloomy look as she left her side. While Tina was all but hanging off Mike's shoulders by the end of the song, Brittany just stood dutifully beside Artie's chair, her hand on his shoulder, only kissing him on the cheek after Tina laid a much more passionate (and noisy) one on Mike's.

After practice, Brittany gave Artie an excuse and chased her best friend as she walked out the door. "Santana! Can we talk?"

Santana put her hand around Brittany's waist. "Sure, pretty young thang. You don't seem happy for someone whose man just sung her a song."

Brittany avoided eye contact, staring at her own wringing hands. "I don't know if he's going to be my man much longer," she admitted.

Santana transferred her hand to Brittany's shoulder. "Oh, Sweetie, I'm so sorry." She gave her a brief sideways shoulder hug.

Brittany didn't hug back. "Don't lie, Santana. I know you want Artie and me to break up so that we can have our sexy-times back."

Santana slid a finger through Brittany's hair, pushing a tress behind her ear. "I want… whatever makes you happy. Artie's very sweet to you," Santana explained, even as the words felt traitorous and poisonous on her tongue. "If he makes you happy, I can be happy for you. Yay_!_" she cheered weakly. She waited for Brittany to say:

"But what… if he doesn't… make me happy?"

Santana took Brittany's hands in her own, stopping their progress down the hallway completely, and didn't let her friend pull away. "Then I'm willing to do a whole hell lot better than him."

Brittany bit her lip. "You said I should treat him right. Do you think that breaking up with him because he's not right for me is treating him right?"

"Yes," Santana replied insistently, while pressing her forehead against Brittany, "and I mean that completely without bias. But don't trust me. I have a bad habit of making people treat their significant others badly."

"Not lately."

Santana rubbed Brittany's back. "No, that's true. But I have a history of it. So, I want you to ask other people in glee what you just asked me. They'll all tell you you're only hurting him by staying in an unhappy relationship, I promise." She extended her pinky, which Brittany took with the opposite hand, and they continued like that the short distance to their lockers.

Unbeknownst to the girls, Artie had been following them, watching Santana shamelessly touch Brittany every chance she got. He was glowering.

: : :

Will was walking down the hallway when he spotted Holly walking toward him. He stumbled over his own feet trying to stop in time to address her. "Holly, what are you doing here? Are you subbing for Mrs. Pepino's health classes?"

"I'm actually interviewing for her job. Her mother came down with monkey flu and it's very serious. She's taking a sabbatical until at least the end of the year."

One week previous, Sue Sylvester was comforting Mrs. Pepino in her office, showing her a brochure for an assisted living facility. "My sister is living here and she's very happy."

Will reached out and touched Holly's forearm. "I can't believe you didn't tell me about this."

"I was going to surprise you if I got the job. I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"Completely unnecessary. I'm convinced you'll get it. When's your interview?"

"It was supposed to be an hour ago, but Sue rescheduled it till tomorrow. I don't think that's a good sign."

Will was dismissive. "Don't sweat it. Sue's always reading books like _The Art of War_; it's probably just a mind game. You'll be fine. And, hey, there's glee practice today. You should come and watch. My kids are in total love song mode."

"I think I will."

For a moment, they awkward danced around each other, before deciding a quick peck on the lips was the best way to say good-bye.

: : :

Outside the choir room, Artie was angrily talking with Brittany. "I saw you with Santana. Please don't lie to me, Brittany; are you cheating on me with her?"

"No! I'm _not_ cheating on you, Artie. I can't believe you'd say that! I'm a totally awesome serious-business girlfriend!"

"Brittany, you can't deny you're slipping away from me. Santana wants you and she may be trying to sabotage our relationship."

"You know what? I miss her a lot, and I wish we go back to the way we used to. But we're _not_, because I don't want to hurt you. _Santana_ is the one who's been telling me it would be wrong for us to have our lady-kisses or our lady-loving again. I'm doing the right thing for you because she told me to."

"That speech is not reassuring, Brittany. It just makes me think you're having an emotional affair with her."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're not actually doing anything physical with her, but you're spending time with her, wishing you were dating her, sharing things with her that you won't share with me. It means you're treating her like you're _her_ girlfriend, like she's closer to you than I am."

"I've known Santana a long time. Of course we're closer."

"Brittany, if you're going to break up with me, I want to know."

"I would never break up with you on Valentine's Day. That would make me like the worst girlfriend ever."

Artie clenched his fists. "We've got glee. We'll finish this conversation later."

Already in her seat, Santana locked eyes with Brittany the moment she walked in the door. Artie had rolled in several seconds before her and Brittany was near tears. It was a bad sign for their relationship and a good sign for Santana. _Yes, I know, I'm a bad person, but it's not like I won't be comforting her when they break up. Sexy-comforting her. _

Artie positioned himself in the empty space between two chairs on the front row. Santana was in her usual spot two chairs over from Artie. He was watching the seat on the opposite side from Santana, but Brittany unsurprisingly took the chair between her boyfriend and best friend, pleasing him none too much.

When Mr. Schue asked if anyone had any Valentine's song they wanted to sing, Puck raised his hand. "This is for a special lady of mine."

Santana's brow furrowed. There were no special guests in the room. Her mind went through the candidates: _Quinn is still happily with Sam, right?_ She looked over and saw them sitting close together; Quinn's face showed the same fears she did. _Or maybe Rachel? He gets a Jew-boner for her every couple of months. Tina? Nah. __**Brittany? **__ He wouldn't do that to… well, maybe to Artie, but certainly not to me. Mercedes? I thought we've been through this. And I can't have another sing-off against her; everyone will know it's fake. Again. And he's certainly not going after me. _

_Right?_

"This is for my main girl, Santana. I love you, _machorrita_." Santana regretted every introducing him to Urban Dictionary. He picked up his guitar and sang an upbeat rock song with the band:

_Breaking my back just to know your name  
Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game  
I'm breaking my back just to know your name  
But heaven ain't close in a place like this  
Anything goes but don't blink you might miss  
'Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this  
I said heaven ain't close in a place like this  
Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight  
Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight_

When Puck got to the chorus, Santana finally figured out the meaning behind his song choice. Relief flooded through her, and laughing, she joined him in song from her seat:

_Well somebody told me  
You had a boyfriend  
Who looked like a girlfriend  
That I had in February of last year  
It's not confidential  
I've got potential_

She playfully pointed to him with both hands during "boyfriend" and, with her thumbs, to Brittany and in Quinn's general direction during "girlfriend". She jumped up on the next verse to dance in a wide circle around Puck. She was joined by the other couples in the room, excluding Artie and Brittany, the latter who was content to sit in her seat pouting. Holly was dancing the most scandalously of all, trying to pry Will from his seat.

_Ready? Let's roll onto something new  
Taking its toll and I'm leaving without you  
I'm ready, let's roll onto something new  
'Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this  
I said heaven ain't close in a place like this  
Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight  
Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight  
_

_Well somebody told me  
You had a boyfriend  
Who looked like a girlfriend  
That I had in February of last year  
It's not confidential  
I've got potential  
A-rushin', a-rushin' around_

All her classmates, even Artie, but not Brittany, joined her in pointing at boys during "boyfriend" and at girls during "girlfriend." At the end of the song, with an ear-to-end grin on her face, Santana walked up and hugged Puck. "Best lesbro ever," she whispered in his ear.

The celebration was interrupted by a knock at the door, where Dr. Carl walked in with Miss Pillsbury on one hand and a guitar case in the other. Mr. Schue immediately stiffened.

"Carl, what can I do for you?"

"Look, Will, I know we've had our differences in the past, but… I heard that your kids were doing love songs this week. I don't suppose you'd mind letting me borrow a few minutes, and the band, to sing something to my fiancée?"

Mr. Schue frowned for a minute, his eyes wandering to Holly, who was studying him neutrally with a strong poker face. He turned back to Dr. Carl and plastered on a fake grin. "Carl, that sounds like a very romantic gesture. Emma totally deserves something like that. Consider the floor yours," he stated with a welcoming flourish.

The dentist pulled out his guitar and started crooning in a very 50s slow rock style:

_Wise men said, "Only fools rush in"  
But I can't help falling in love with you_

Shall I stay?  
Would it be a sin  
If I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows  
Surely to the sea  
Darling, so it goes  
Some things are meant to be

Take my hand  
Take my whole life, too  
For I can't help falling in love with you

Emma spent the entire song completely enthralled by her fiancé's song. The entire glee club swayed along, several of them pulling out their phones and swinging them like lighters. Will spent the entire song stony-faced. After the second verse, he slipped his hand into Holly's. "They look happy, in love," he whispered.

"They do," she replied evenly.

"I know you're a little uneasy about serious relationships, but…"

Her eyes locked on Carl and Emma, she stated, "It seems nice."

During the final chords of the song, Emma ran up and kissed Carl on the mouth, causing Will to avert his eyes. She whispered to him, "Carl, that was wonderful. Hey, maybe tonight's the night I… stay over so we can… get 'all shook up'?"

"That'd be great, M&M. I love you."

"Love you, too, Carl."

Will shot up from his seat and told the glee club, without taking a breath, "Well, I think that about wraps up the day. If you're still waiting to do a song, don't worry, we've got the rest of the week."

Santana caught up with Puck on her way out. "So, you want a PFLAG pamphlet? My parents got to meetings monthly."

"No thanks. I think I'm supporting my main girl just fine."

"Agreed. Speaking of which, if you have to resort to singing to _me_ on Valentine's Day, you really need to get laid."

"I gotta admit without you on call, I am going through a bit of a dry spell. I was getting serious tail at this apartment complex as their pool cleaner, but the owner caught me and now I've been replaced by some schlubby guy."

"You know what? I owe you a favor. I'll find you a hookup."

: : :

Project Hookup got off to a slow start. It seemed Puck had been very industrious at the beginning of the year and most of the Cheerios had already been to Puckertown. _Just my luck that I have to be __**creative**__ when finding Puck someone to seduce. _

'I owe the girl a favor' was Santana's apparent excuse while examining Genevieve McLaire. The girl was fit, had a pretty face; though she was a little eccentric in style, and quite petite, but none of that stopped Puck from trying his luck with Rachel.

"Hi," Santana began, too upbeat for her to recognize her own voice, as she leaned against the locker.

Genevieve replied unsurely, "Greetings. Are you going to steal something from me again?"

"Just your heart."

"Yeah, I'm waiting for college."

"To… date?"

Matter-of-factly, the thespian replied, "To try out women. That's how LUGs work, right? Lesbian until graduation? I thought those were the rules."

"No, I'm not asking on my own behalf. I'm trying to set you up with Noah Puckerman."

"Hmm, I'm not familiar with this play."

"Play?"

"We're all just actors in the play of life."

"No, this is real life."

"Bertolt Brecht would disagree."

Santana didn't realize that talking to this chick would require Wikipedia access. "Fine, this is a play. So, do you want to meet him so we can get to the next… act?"

"No. He's definitely a character based on Lothario and in the tradition of epic theater, I'm going to behave in a genre-savvy way."

"I'm not following you, like at all. I'm just asking for you to let him pursue you for a while. If you give it up, hey, that's your prerogative, but I must say the boy's very talented. If you know what I mean?"

"I do, but aren't you a lesbian?"

"And that makes me incapable of judging these things?"

"A little. You know what they say, 'Don't judge and be not judged.'"

Talking to this girl was going to give her an aneurysm. "That's… tangential." She muttered to herself, "I was so much better at this with Mr. Schue and Ms. Holliday."

Genevieve gasped and put a hand to her breast. In a scandalized stage-whisper, she exclaimed, "They're having an affair? Ooh, plot twist!"

"It's not an affair."

"Is that why he left his wife?"

"He left his ex-wife 'cause she was a crazy-ass person who faked a pregnancy and he was into Miss Pillsbury."

"So, it was an affair. Love triangle!"

"Enough with the affairs, Squeaky Toy."

Genevieve continued through the imaginary script in her head. "I thought Miss Pillsbury was engaged to my dentist."

"Was there an announcement about that?"

"Miss P Facebook-friends all the students."

"Yeah, that's weird. Last chance: you want to be half of Puckevieve?"

Genevieve politely accused, "No, I'm pretty sure this is a trick. You're setting me up. You tend to attack girls who go out with Puck."

"That is true, but I'm not going to do that."

Genevieve spoke purposefully. "I don't believe you."

"Why not? I have no reason to lie to you."

Genevieve's character switched again to that of a lawyer. "False. _I _have no reason to lie to me, so I tend to trust my instincts. My instincts tell me you're trying to put me in a place where you have motive to attack me."

"Your instincts are wrong, you fairyland elf. Are you in or out?"

"I just explained why my gut is never wrong, so I'm out. And not in the LUGgy way. I told you, I'm waiting for college." With this she walked off with one arm dramatically flung in the air.

"The theater drives you batty. At least there's an excuse for Berry."

During the next break between classes, Santana was eyeing all the female students in the hallway. _Needs serious dental work… must smear grease on her face every morning… biologically one quarter equine… definite part Cuban; can't be trusted… definitely born male…_ _will definitely be male by the time she's thirty…_

She finally noticed an attractive enough figure under a head of dirty blond hair. She placed herself against the locker.

"Hi, you must be new here."

The girl turned to Santana. "Sort of. I moved from Utah last summer, but I've been here all year."

Santana wasn't listening, instead examining her prey. _Ooh, Puck can work with a face like that. _"Anyway, Santana Lopez, nice to meet you."

"Likewise. I've heard of you."

"The lesbian thing?"

"Yes, mostly."

"Great. And you are…?" _Ugh, how do people do this… polite conversation thing?_

She extended her hand. "Faith Jennings. Might I ask what this is about?"

"Are you familiar with Noah Puckerman?"

"By reputation. He's on the football team and the glee club. He got a cheerleader pregnant last year, right?"

_Crap. _"Right!" Santana agreed, over-smiling, "She's totally over _that_. Her name's Quinn Fabray. We're friends. We're like this." She displayed her fingers crossed. "'Cept totally not in the lesbian way. She's straight. So is he, by the way."

"Are you trying to set me up?"

"How am I doing?"

"Not great. Yeah, I've heard he's kind of a womanizer. And he goes by 'Puck' apparently, and I'm almost not comfortable saying that because it's pretty close a curse word."

"Utah," Santana recounted, "You're Mormon, aren't you?" Santana's eyes landed on the cross necklace around her neck and the Bible verse taped to her locker door.

"No, Methodist actually. Knew a lot of them, though."

"It is because Puck's Jewish?"

"I wasn't aware, actually. And, to be honest, that might be the reason I wouldn't _marry_ him, but I'm gonna refuse you're offer because he's not really my type. And, to be frank, I know that this is a trick. He's your ex and you go after every girl he dates and you're looking for new meat."

"That's not true."

"Really, 'cause that weird theater chick was pretty convinced that it was. She said she caught you in some sort of lie." Santana grit her teeth. "Look, I've got to get to chemistry. It was very nice meeting you, Santana." She circled Santana cautiously and jogged away.

Santana grumbled and briefly considered setting fire to something. _I used to __**run**__ this school and now look what I'm reduced to. _ Faith had left her locker open, so Santana slammed it shut a little harder than what was necessary.

: : :

In the faculty lounge, Will was eating in lunch with Holly.

"Do you always eat your cookies before the rest of your lunch?" Holly asked.

Will laughed. "It's a bad habit I got into as a kid. I thought I was such a rebel because I always ate my dessert first."

"Hey, you don't have to justify it to me, Sinatra. I'm quite in the habit of having dessert before the meal." Her eyes twinkled and Will almost choked on his food.

He took her hand. "How are you enjoying the 'meal', though?"

"I like it," she admitted, "Doesn't mean I can't wait for dessert…"

Will ignored that, looking at his watch. "When did Sue schedule your interview today?"

"One o'clock, but she cancelled again. Do you think I'm not getting the hint?"

"Sue's pretty straightforward. If she didn't want you, she'd definitely make a list of your flaws."

"And what flaws would those be?"

"No comment."

"Ooh, you formerly married men have got it figured out. I'm used to clueless bachelors." Holly's eyes then fell upon Emma Pillsbury, who was eating her lunch alone at another table. "Will, does Emma looks more traumatized than usual?" Will looked up; Emma _was_ unusually fidgety. She was double-wiping her grapes and flinching at every sound and at every passing teacher. When she noticed Will and Holly looking at her, she got up from her seat and power-walked out of the room.

"Maybe I should talk to her," Will said, "I hope you don't think it has anything to do with my feelings for her."

"No, you always do the right thing. It's kind of sexy." Holly nervously fiddled with her peanut butter-covered celery, which confused Will, since Holly _never_ did anything nervously. She finally asked, "I was thinking, maybe I ought to sing you a song in glee this afternoon. I've been working on something." With that, her un-Holly-like nervousness shifted back to her very Holly-like sultriness.

"I'm not going to regret this, am I?"

"Don't you trust me, cowboy?"

"It's still too early to tell."

: : :

Santana's next prospect was a fellow member of the track team. All Santana really knew about her was that she was a British exchange student, her last name was Phillips, and her first name was something bizarre like "Xena."

"Xena, is it?" Santana asked as she jogged along the dark-skinned girl.

"Zira," she was corrected.

"It's pretty."

"I'm not gay. It's just my accent. I'm from London."

"Yeah, already got my eye on another girl, but thanks. No, I'm trying to set you up with my friend Noah Puckerman. He's on the football team?"

"I know of him. But, sorry, I don't date white boys, plus if he turned you lezzie…"

"A _girl_ turned me lezzie. Or I was born this way. It's not important."

"Regardless, I know the score. This is some trick to get into a tussle, innit?"

"Seriously, how did it spread so fast?" Santana was tired of rejection, so she threw in the towel, "Toodles."

"That's not a thing," Zira called after Santana, who had run off.

So, at the end of the day, Santana found herself scarring her eyes by looking upon the stout form of Lauren Zizes, eating bite-size Butterfingers bars two at a time in the deserted A/V room.

"Zizes, can we have a chat?"

"What do you want, Taco Combo?"

"Actually, the question is what do _you_ want, or more specifically, _who_. Noah Puckerman. You interested?"

"Of course I'm interested. Puckerman's a total hottie. But you honestly think he'd go for me? I've had breakfasts that weight more than some of his flings." She looked Santana up and now as if she were some kind of beetle. "Not to mention I've heard what this is. It's a setup. You're trying to set up your ex-flame with a girl so you have someone to take out your gay rage on."

Santana clenched her teeth. "I've got to kill that rumor." She redirected her attention back to Zizes, "I'm not saying I could or couldn't takes you down, but I shall say that I don't wants to find out. Puck's eager; you might have a shot."

Zizes now looked at her as if considering her to a beetle would be a step up. "If this is some sort of setup to humiliate me, I will use you as a bowling ball to destroy my archnemesis on the roleplaying club."

"Duly noted, Lauren."

"Call me Zizes. No one calls me Lauren."

On her way to glee, Santana noticed Mr. Horn's entire room was filled with Cheerios. Classes had ended. She was caught staring by Coach Delmonico, who asked her heatedly, "Is it some kind of vendetta against Sue? I had to cancel practice because my entire squad got afterschool detention because of you."

"I didn't do anything."

"So, who told Principal Sylvester that my Cheerios were planning on some silly prank?"

"I really don't know. Look, I got to go. I have…"

"Glee?"

"Yeah." She didn't wait around to watch her get pissy or weepy or whatever she was going to do.

: : :

"So, Finn has asked to go first today. I believe he has a song for Rachel," Mr. Schue announced.

Finn got up from his seat beside Rachel, but instead of going to the front, he placed himself behind Rachel's chair and pushed it across the floor, spinning her to face the crowd. Rachel squealed with delight, her hands squeezing the sides of her seat. "Ready?" he asked.

"Ready."

Brad and the band played a soft rock-pop ballad and Finn sung to Rachel, circling her slowly. She smiled wide and danced in her seat.

_Forgetting all I'm lacking  
Completely incomplete  
I'll take your invitation  
You take all of me now_

I'm falling even more in love with you  
Letting go of all I've held onto  
I'm standing here until you make me move  
I'm hanging by a moment here with you

I'm living for the only thing I know  
I'm running and not quite sure where to go  
And I don't know what I'm diving into  
Just hanging by a moment here with you

There's nothing else to lose  
There's nothing else to find  
There's nothing in the world  
That can change my mind

I'm falling even more in love with you  
Letting go of all I've held onto  
I'm standing here until you make me move  
I'm hanging by a moment here with you

There was applause, even by Santana, who swore to herself that she _did not_ smile at the cotton candy sweetness that was Finn Hudson and Rachel Berry. When Finn leaned his gargantuan body over to kiss the miniscule speck that constituted his girlfriend, she finally found reason to shift her eyes away.

There was a knock on the door and all eyes turned to where Holly Holliday was leaning against the door frame, giving Will a heated look. "So, Mr. Schuester, I've got a song to sing. Do I need to raise my hand?"

Will's cheeks flushed. "Everyone, do you think we could squeeze Ms. Holliday?" After a second he added, "…in? Do you think we could squeeze her in?"

"Absolutely," Santana growled. Beside her, Brittany bit her lips in a wide grin, nudging Santana's shoulder. Artie scowled at this.

"So, this is for my boyfriend." She slipped off her jacket and tossed it onto the piano, where Brad didn't so much frown as shift his eyebrows with the slightest bit of disapproval. Underneath, she was wearing a very pastel ensemble consisting of a white button-up shirt and a cream-colored pants. "Hit it!"

Expectations were underwhelmed when a slow, pop melody began, the slightest hint of a country tinge from the guitar. There was a long intro, during which Holly sat in a chair just swaying, her hands trailing innocently across her sides and through her hair. Finally, she stood up and began to sing softly:

_I can feel the magic floating in the air  
Being with you gets me that way  
I watch the sunlight dance across your face and I've  
Never been this swept away_

She wandered over to the band.

_All my thoughts just seem to settle on the breeze  
When I'm lying wrapped up in your arms  
The whole world just fades away  
The only thing I hear  
Is the beating of your heart_

She circled around and leaned against the piano, locking her eyes and belting her voice:

'_Cause I can feel you breathe  
It's washing over me  
Suddenly I'm melting into you  
There's nothing left to prove  
Baby all we need is just to be  
Caught up in the touch  
The slow and steady rush  
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be  
I can feel you breathe  
_

Her voice had decrescendo'd to a whisper again, but leapt up onto the piano for to belt on more line:

_Just breathe_

She continued the song while seated on the piano, rolling around on it. Will was struggling between being moved and mortified. After another tortuously long verse, bridge, and repeat of the chorus, the song finally came to a close.

_I can feel the magic floating in the air  
Being with you gets me that way _

The two teachers' eyes locked but they were interrupted by clapping at the door. Principal Sylvester was watching keenly, applauding half-sarcastically. "Well, isn't that what I like to see: our school's expensive instruments used as a bed."

Will groaned. "Sue, can we help you with something?"

"Just wanted to make sure Ms. Holliday was on time for her job audition."

"Now?" She scrambled off the piano, digging through her purse. "I think I've got my résumé right here. Are we going to your office?"

Sue explained pointedly, "The interview was five minutes ago. Let me just say I was very impressed. I was concerned about your mediocre teaching credentials. I hold my educators to a very high standard. Schuester, for example, would never pass my litmus test. But your musical talent does make you an optimal fit for the glee co-director position. Should you be willing to do both that and the health position, understanding obviously that the first is an unpaid position, I think I can make an exception."

"Will, do you mind sharing the job?"

"Not at all, Holly. The kids love you." To show their support, the club cheered loudly.

Sue loudly cleared her throat. "That'll be enough. The sound of cheering just makes me depressed that the Cheerios are utter failures." She took an exaggerated self-comforting breath and turned back to Holly, telling her without an ounce of joy, "Well, Ms. Holliday, welcome to McKinley." She snapped her finger to the side and Becky raced in carrying a McKinley High folder and a set of keys. Holly held out her hand but Becky passed it to Sue, who passed to Holly. "Inside you'll find your teaching certificate…"

"I was wondering when I was going to get that. I thought they were going to send it to me in the mail."

"Oh, I've been having Coach Delmonico go through your mail for the past three weeks."

"I think she stole my Victoria's Secret catalog."

"Probably. Anyway, you'll also find all your salary and benefits information. Actually, go ahead and look at that. I was to see the disillusionment in your eyes." Holly complied and her face did fill with discontent. "Those are the keys to your classroom. Did I miss anything?"

Holly flipped through the folder. "There's a dress code memo in here."

"Yes, I took the privilege of laminating that for you. Read it carefully. On the back should be another memo about fraternization between faculty members. Welcome to the team. And by team, I mean 'my labor force.'" She suddenly turned to Santana. "Have a nice video-free day, Wobbles?"

"Yeah," Santana answered, confused.

"Then where's my thank-you?"

"I…"

"Kids these days. So inconsiderate. You're welcome, Carmella." With that, she left, Becky in her wake.

Will hopped up and put his hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. "Can we give Ms. Holliday a round of applause welcoming her to New Directions?" The kids clapped, whooped, and cheered loudly.

Santana screamed out, "Kiss her!" She got a stern look from Will, so she added, "Or not. It's probably inappropriate."

"According to this, it is. Though some of these stipulations are completely unnecessary. She must have made them up."

"Only the last one."

: : :

As Puck and Santana walked into Breadstix, Puck was rubbing his hands together as his eyes scanned the room predatorily. Santana's were, too, but she was eyeing the canister on the table holding the crispy breadsticks she loved. Puck interrupted her salivating moment to ask her, "So, you ready to show me what foxy mama I'll be taking home tonight?"

Santana mumbled a reply, "Not really."

"Huh?"

She turned to him. "So, preface: Apparently, I'm kind of scary, and there's a rumor going around school that I'm setting up girls with you for the sole purpose of starting fights with them."

"I can see that."

"I can cancel your date right here and now. So, anyway, the only way I was going to discredit this rumor was to set you up with the one girl in school who isn't afraid of me." She tilted her head toward a particular table across the aisle from them.

"Zizes? Seriously, Lopez. You're chasing Brittany and I'm getting Paul Bunyan?"

"Think of it as a bike with training wheels. You charm her; you get your game back in top shape; all the girls in school see that I won't go all _Fatal Attraction_ on them. Suddenly, the Puckster is fending them off with a stick."

"Fine. Can't be too hard, right?" He walked over to the table where Lauren was waiting.

Lauren looked up. "Have a seat, Puckerman. I've already ordered two appetizers and an all-you-can-eat family style bowl of fettuccini Alfredo. When the waiter comes back, you can order something for yourself. I see you didn't bring me chocolates. You're not off to a great start."

"I could get you some dessert. The chocolate molten cake here is kickass. Unless there's some other dessert you have in mind?" He waggled his eyebrows.

Lauren looked unimpressed. "Yeah, I already got one ordered. But now that you mention it, I would like a slice of cheesecake." She snapped her fingers, calling out, "_Garçon!_"

Back at Santana's table, Kurt, in his Dalton uniform, greeted her, "Zorra!"

"Nene!" Santana screamed back, hugging Kurt. "I've missed you so much. Tell me, how is Dalton?"

"Oh, fabulous. Honestly, it's amazing what you can pay for when you have… money."

"And, better question: how does it go with Blim?"

"Blaine, and I know you know that. Er, could be better. Seems he had a bit of thing for someone who wasn't yours truly."

"Oh, _pobrecito_, no. Do you need me to hate him? 'Cause hating people's like second nature to me. Wait, it is a him?"

"It was. And thanks, but no thanks on the loathing vibes." He twisted his lip in a mock-sad manner which quickly devolved into a grin, "Blaine struck out big time. It was some Gap employee with _Princess Bride_ hair."

"Westley or Buttercup?"

"Split the difference. Also, he was like 20. But… silver lining: Blaine's a total romantic." He looked around. "Look, I don't mean to push, but… Karofsky?"

"_He_'s getting the loathing vibes pretty hard. I don't know what the magic gesture is that means it's safe for you to come back—coming out, apologizing publicly—but whatever it is, it hasn't happened yet. Sorry."

"It's a tricky situation. I'm not expecting a miracle. But onto happier topics. How goes it with your lady love?"

"I'm _so_ close… I'd don't mean to be crude, but Artie's just not satisfying Brittany where it counts. She's probably already broken up with him."

"Might want to revisit that theory."

Brittany was walking in, pushing Artie in his wheelchair. She waved at Santana. She exchanged a few words with Artie, which became heated immediately and she stomped off, plopping herself down in a chair beside Santana, which she stayed in for exactly one nanosecond before leaping up, hugging Kurt until he could hardly breathe. They exchanged brief pleasantries before Kurt excused himself and Brittany sat herself down.

"Hey, Britts, you and Artie still going strong?" Santana asked sarcastically. "Someone tell you to stick it out?"

"No," Brittany admitted, "I asked everyone in glee and they told me the same thing that you did: break up with him." Santana waited. "It's just hard. He wants to work it out really bad."

"Well, it looks like you two are working it out _really bad_."

Brittany slid her hand across the table and took Santana's hand, keeping her eyes focused on the connection and not Santana's searching eyes. "How are you and Puck?" she asked, pulling her hand away.

The question struck Santana as strange. "We're good. He's on a blind date with a planetoid that I set him up with."

Brittany noticed where Puck and Zizes were sitting. "Oh, I thought you two…"

"…were dating? Please, Brittany, did you miss the memo about me only being into girls now?"

"I thought maybe his song had made you less gay. Or you were hiding in the wardrobe again. I heard you were scaring off girls from him all day."

"I was trying to give him the hookup. Puckerman's my lesbro. He has zero chance with me…" Her eyes found the couple of discussion: Lauren looked bored; Puck looked desperate. "…and from the looks of it, has even less of a chance with her." She looked back, "By the way, do you know anything about why the Cheerios all got punished because of me?"

Brittany guiltily confessed, "That was my fault. They were going to stuff a bunch of pornos in your locker, so I told Ms. Sylvester. I didn't think she'd help me after I left the Cheerios, but she has a robin in her nest about being mean to gay people because of Kurt, so she gave them all detention."

"So, you're telling me you confronted _Sue Sylvester_ to save me from getting bullied? Why must you be perfect in every way?" She dragged Brittany into a tight hug.

Brittany bowed her head. "I gotta go."

"Back to Artie?"

"I need to talk to him about… something."

The Warblers had assembled on the makeshift stage, so Santana just nodded, letting her go. After Kurt's shy introduction, the Warblers began their song while swaying in place, but Blaine wasted no time walking into the crowd as he started his solo, his compatriots following in his footsteps.

_You'd think that people would have had enough of silly love songs.  
But I look around me and I see it isn't so.  
Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs  
And what's wrong with that?  
I'd like to know, 'cause here I go again  
I love you, I love you  
I love you, I love you  
_

Brittany was seated on the inside chair next to Artie, allowing her to look over at where Santana was sitting alone, mouthing the words. Brittany found herself doing the same.

_I can't explain the feelings plain to me, say can't you see?  
Ah, she gave me more, she gave it all to me  
Now can't you see,  
What's wrong with that  
I need to know, cause here I go again  
I love you, I love you  
_

He took a seat at Puck and Lauren's table, screaming: _Love doesn't come in a minute_. Lauren shrugged in tacit agreement.

He leapt over to Santana's table, leaning on his elbows, telling her: _Sometimes it doesn't come at all_. She grinned sheepishly, raised her arm bent at the elbow, and gripped her bicep. _  
_

_I only know that when I'm in it  
It isn't silly, no, it isn't silly, love isn't silly at all  
_

He spun around the divider where seated in two adjacent booths were the snuggling couples: Tina and Mike with Sam and Quinn at one booth, and Rachel and Finn across from Mercedes in the other.

Blaine raced back to the stage to sing with Kurt. If Santana didn't know any better, she'd think he was flirting with him. Kurt was certainly sending bedroom eyes back.

As the song had reached the final ad-lib portion, a couple of Warblers tried to flirt with her. She smiled at them, making a thoughtful face with her hand on her chin, her thumb and index finger in an L-shape. Artie was looking darkly at the tablecloth. Brittany was glaring at the Asian Warbler who'd just tried to sit in Santana's lap.

_I love you, I love you_

Kurt leaned over on the booth, receiving a kiss on each cheek from Rachel and Mercedes, and a fist bump from Finn before he pranced off.

_I can't explain the feeling's plain to me, so can't you see?  
Ah, she gave me more, she gave it all to me, now can't you see_

Santana's eyes naturally drew back to Artie and Brittany's table. Artie was gone and Brittany was seated alone. Santana raised her hand in a wave, which caught Brittany's eye. She waved back, but then turned her eyes to the untouched bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, leaning down and resting her head against the table and drawing a shape with her hand. It appeared to be a heart.

* * *

A/N: Puck's song to Santana was "Somebody Told Me" by the Killers. I'm not 100 percent sure it's actually a straight guy's serenade to a lesbian, but it is here. Carl's song to Emma was Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love (With You)". It's almost barely a _Full House_ in-joke. I really did look for something by the Beach Boys, but every last one of their songs is musical Valium. At least I didn't choose "Forever." Finn's song to Rachel was Lifehouse's "Hanging by a Moment". And Holly sang "Breathe" by Faith Hill, because there's too little country on _Glee_.

I got into the habit of casting all my characters when I was writing for the _Heroes_ fandom. Genevieve McLaire is a character I've been working on for some time and would be played by Lauren Lopez of Starkid fame. (I'm working on characters for most of Darren's friends.) I hope to one day introduce her to _Glee_ canon in my novel. Faith Jennings is based on the Christian character the creators were brainstorming, and I'd cast singer/dancer Julianne Hough of _Dancing with the Stars_ fame. Zira Phillips would be played by British _X Factor _winner Alexandra Burke. I actually stole this character from somebody on Tumblr.


	16. Just Want Someone to Want Me

Doing It Right: Chapter 16  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. It's Artie last chance to win over Brittany, and the club holds another round of auditions.  
Spoilers: 2x13 "Comeback"  
Disclaimer: I hate disclaimers. But I wanted to disclaim, okay, yeah, I don't own _Glee_ or anything. But I do own the funny ideas and plot points, especially those which the show steals from _me_. Doesn't being a _Glee _fanfiction writer make you want to write a _Glee_ original novel? Just me?

A/N: The working title for this chapter was "Baby, Come Back", a name which I simultaneously hated for being so dumb and loved for being so funny.

That idea I had about making each chapter longer than the last? Don't let me promise that again, reading audience. It causes major schedule drift.

* * *

Chapter 16: Just Want Someone to Want Me

_My friends say I'm a fool to think that you're the one for me  
I guess I'm just a sucker for love  
'Cause honestly the truth is that you know I'm never leavin'  
'Cause you're my angel sent from above_

_Baby, you can do no wrong_  
_My money is yours, give you a little more because I love ya, love ya_  
_With me, girl, is where you belong_  
_Just stay right here, I promise my dear I'll put nothin' above ya, 'bove ya_

_Love me, love me, say that you love me_  
_Fool me, fool me, oh how you do me_  
_Kiss me, kiss me, say that you miss me_  
_Tell me what I wanna hear, tell me you love me_

At this moment, Sam was singing a Justin Bieber song while playing his guitar, and Santana was praying for a time jump, almost not caring if she was on her death bed when she became lucid again. She realized she'd fixed every relationship in the room. It could be argued she'd even fixed Artie and Brittany's, even if they were sitting a foot apart, not looking at each other. Now, she was afraid she might have to fix Sam and Quinn.

Sam mercifully ended the song. "So, that was for my girlfriend, Quinn. Since I didn't get to sing her a love song last week."

"Yes, you did," Quinn insisted, "You came over to my house and sang me 'Everything You Want' by Vertical Horizon. It was very sweet."

"Yeah, but it wasn't in public. I wanted to let everyone I knew how much I love you. And that's why I went to the master of love himself: Justin Bieber. I mean, the dude's dating Selena Gomez."

"Yeah, 'cause _she_'s not a closet baby dyke," Santana quipped.

"True story," Ms. Holliday mused, "All her love songs are dedicated to girls." Will sent her a disapproving glare.

Sam looked dejected. "Quinn, baby, did you not like that?"

"Sam, you looked like an idiot." Sam's face fell, but Quinn slowly got up from her chair and, after fixing his bangs, wrapped her arms around his neck. "But you're my idiot." She pressed her lips into his for a quick peck.

_Thank the Lord. Getting Quinn back into his arms might involve pointing out his positive aspects, and that's definitely a blind spot for me. _

: : :

_Dear Journal, _

_Today marks the second week in my __NEWEST__ plan to crush Will Schuester and the glee club. Last week, I hired that wench Holly Holliday to be his glee co-director. Schuester and Holliday have completely incompatible teaching styles. Pretty soon, the club will be divided over which parent they like best. Factions will form. Fights will become commonplace. Someone might even __DIE__._

_And in the meantime, I will take control over one of the rival glee clubs. New Directions will be up against the Crawford Country Day Starlings and Westvale's Aural Intensity. My next step will be to decide which team I will lead and how to… dispose of their current director. _

_Oh, Journal, I'm as happy as a muskrat that has just devoured its newborn kits. _

Sue put her pen down with purpose and popped open a bottle of gummy vitamins. "I wonder if anyone could OD on these?"

: : :

Will noticed the blinds in Emma's office were closed, so he knocked on the door and opened it. "Emma?" he called into the darkness.

"Oh, Will, it's you. Come in."

"Emma, are you okay? I haven't seen you around." He noticed she was scrubbing her desk. "And I haven't seen you do that in a while either."

Emma tightly squeezed the scrubbing brush, using her rubber-gloved arms to shield herself. "Oh, you know me, I like things clean. Got to get rid of the dirtiness." Her eyes unfocused and she began to quiver.

"I don't know if you heard, but Sue hired Holly as the new health teacher and glee co-director. I brought in a cake to celebrate and welcome her to the team, but someone stole it out of the teachers' lounge minifridge. I'm guessing Sue since Becky Jackson had frosting on her lips yesterday."

"Oh, yes, I did hear. You must be very happy," Emma replied insincerely.

"I am. She's great with the kids. And, I'm not going to lie, I like having her tied down. Long-term relationships aren't really her strong point." Emma just nodded. "Hey, have you and Carl set a date for your wedding?"

Emma gasped, but finally answered, fiddling with her necklace, "Yes. June 11th. It's nice and warm then, so we're going to have it outside. Actually, it's not going to be outside. Too much filth. And animals. Dirty animals." Emma's eye twitched and she asked, "Will, could I have a minute alone?"

"Sure." Emma looked moments away from a breakdown, but Will respected her wish and stepped outside.

When Will turned around after closing Emma's door, he found himself face-to-face with Holly. She had her hair tied back in a bun with a scarf covering her hair.

"I like your… headscarf."

Suspiciously, Holly answered, "Cancer's on the lesson plan for today. Should I be worried that my boyfriend is walking out of his ex-girlfriend's office when all the shades are pulled down?"

Will's tone was deathly serious. "Emma has regressed _severely_ in her OCD and she's having trouble talking about Carl. I'm worried that he might have forced himself on her or something. Do you think I should confront him?"

"Ooh, that'd be all manly and heroic." She grinned flirtatiously, but shook it off. "No, that is awful, and the kind thing you should absolutely get involved with, ex-flame or not."

"Alright. I'll do it after glee practice today."

"You're doing the right thing. You know, I'm struggling to get the school board let me do a lesson on sexual assault during my sex ed series, and they're just freaking out about it. They think that if you just ignore a problem, it goes away."

"To be fair, there's a lot in that plan that would raise eyebrows."

: : :

Sam was in the weight room when Artie, Mike, and Puck approached him en masse.

"We want in," Puck declared.

"In what?" Sam replied.

Artie clarified, "The Justin Bieber Experience. We want in the band."

"It's a one-man band."

Mike suggested, "So expand."

"You guys were totally making fun of me for singing Bieber."

Puck apologized, "We were wrong. We underestimated the power of the Biebs."

Artie continued, "Quinn just melted in front of you. We need to harness of his god-like power. Brittany's giving me one more shot to salvage our relationship. I need something to pull her in! I'm gonna lose her to another girl!"

Mike added, "Tina's grown cold after Valentine's Day. Nothing's working. Not my abs. Not my dancing. I'm gonna lose her to an iPhone game."

Sam looked at Puck, "What's your excuse? Justin Bieber may be awesome, but he won't turn lesbians straight again."

"Very funny. Santana's long since off my radar. Look, it's Lauren Zizes. I can't get her out of my head. She said _no_ to the Puckzilla. No one does that."

Artie pointed out, "Except for Santana."

"It'd be like trying to attract a rat with peanut butter. She wants cheese."

"That's a weird metaphor."

"Zizes talks about food a lot. I'm gonna lose her to… uh…" He searched for a moment.

"…your total lack of ability to court a girl?" Sam offered.

"That or the fact she finds Oreos more enticing than my guns."

"I'm pretty sure that's all girls," Mike admitted. "I let Tina order devil's food cake on a dinner date once and all of a sudden I'm allowed to touch her ass."

Finn walked in from the next room. "Hey, guys, what's with the glee guys' meeting? Do we like have those now, like the girls? Have you not been inviting me?"

Sam explained, "These guys want to join my band. You looking to get in, too?"

"No thanks," he replied, "Rachel and I are… fine." He rushed out.

: : :

Santana caught Brittany before glee. "Why are you wearing knee socks like a belt?"

"Rachel's paying me to make them cool."

"Tied around your waist?"

"Apparently not. She's kind of mad at me about it. But I had to hide my thong straps somehow."

Santana had something else on her mind. "So, anyway, you and Artie…"

"He's trying really hard, but…"

"It's not clicking."

"_Exactly!_ He hates talking about pizza toppings."

"Let me guess, he likes mushrooms, doesn't he?"

"With Canadian bacon! Everyone knows that the bacon from Canadian topping trees taste just like ham, but he insists they're a difference."

Santana scoffed. "That's why we made that rule: white meat or red meat, none of that pink crap."

"Exactly." Brittany spontaneously announced, "Charity ate one of my pom-poms."

"I know. I saw it on Facebook."

"Artie likes MySpace better. He's like weirdly obsessed with bands that aren't cultural icons _because_ they've never sung with P. Diddy. They're, like, all from Indiana or something. He also likes something called Tumblr, which was a _huge_ disappointment."

"Because it wasn't about gymnastics?"

"It's just this one dumb picture of the _cutest_ little things eating X-Boxes. Turns out, they're not real. What's the point of drawings of cute animals that _don't exist_? It's so cruel. I cried for like an hour. Then I found my Lisa Frank folders, so I was okay."

"Oh, Sweetie, I'm sorry. Let's go to glee. Maybe Mr. Schue and Ms. Holliday will have some fun songs you can make up dances for?"

"Maybe, I think we're in the auditorium, though. The boys had something they wanted to show off."

: : :

_Oh oh oh  
For you I'd write a symphony  
I'd tell the violin  
It's time to sink a swim  
Watchin' play for yaaaa!_

_For you I'd be (Whoa)_  
_But in a thousand miles just get you where you are_

_Step to the beat of my heart, I don't need a whole lot_  
_But for you I need I_  
_I'd rather give you the world_  
_Or we can share mine!_

_I know that I won't be the first one given you all this attention_  
_But Baby listen,_

_I just need somebody to love_

_I need somebody,_  
_I-I need somebody, I need somebody,_  
_I-I need somebody._  
_(Somebody to loooove, somebody to looove.)_

While the four-man Justin Bieber cover band crooned to an audience of six cheering girls, Santana sat back in a chair next to Finn.

Finn turned his head to ask, "So, I guess this isn't working on you?"

"Why would it? I mean, sure, Justin Bieber looks like a lesbian, but he looks like a 13-year-old lesbian. That ain't my thing."

They looked forward again. Rachel was bouncing up and down, barely taller than the stage, blowing kisses to each guy.

Finn casually mentioned, "Rachel's responding to it. Maybe I should have joined after all."

"Look, I know your girl's like a magpie, attracted to shiny things, but I think your song last week really endeared her to you. That girl's a sucker for a serenade."

"Speaking of which, after my Valentine's Day song to her, she told me she was ready for, uh…"

"Don't even say it. I can just tell from the waver in your voice. Let me guess, you didn't tell her about us and went ahead with the naughty waltz."

"No, I told her. She was… angry."

"Is that my warning to be careful?"

"I guess. I was just sharing, really."

"What did you tell her about it? Actually, don't need to know the details; just tell me: am I going to have to play cleanup? 'Cause you're not making my job easy."

"No, I'll handle it."

"Okay, but if I get accosted in the hall by a sweatered gnome, I can't be held liable for my actions if I'm just defending myself and she ends up in the ceiling."

The conversation died as Brittany screamed particularly loudly as she jumped up and down. It made Santana's insides churn, but the blonde didn't seem to be focusing her attention on Artie alone, so it was a small comfort. In fact, when the song was over, and Artie was laboriously lowered off the stage so he could roll up to her to ask her opinion, she shifted uncomfortably in her spot and finally replied, "I liked it. Justin Bieber is cute, like a baby rock star. And he sings songs that are really easy to understand. It's like the only music me and my sister agree on. You sang nicely. So, I'll see you around."

She walked off, leaving Artie in his place, her eyes falling on Santana as she left.

"Maybe _you_ should have joined the band," Finn suggested.

"Not on my life. It's bad enough I'm spouting relationship advice. My rep's low enough without you throwing me shovels."

: : :

Will burst into Carl's exam room, the receptionist running after. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Howell."

Carl was working on a patient, but got up from his place anyway. "Will?"

The receptionist piped in again, "Dr. Howell, should I call security?"

"No, Francine, it's fine. And, please, it's Dr. Carl. Will, please calm down and have a seat and we'll talk like civilized gentlemen."

Francine reluctantly left and a still-fuming Will took a seat in a chair. "What about your patient?" He referred to the middle-aged woman lying back in the dental chair.

"Oh, she's out like a light. She's one of those anxious ones, so I gassed her up. I'm guessing you're here on Emma's behalf?"

"She doesn't know I'm here, but I did come to talk to you about her. What happened? She's traumatized. Did you…?"

Carl slouched over, pain in his face. "God, Will, I don't even know what I did. The other night, she agreed to come over to… make love. She seemed nervous, but let's be honest, my M&M's _always_ nervous about one thing or another. The whole time, she kept reassuring me that everything was fine and that we should keep going. I was nothing but gentle, but afterwards… she was like an abused puppy. I tried to talk to her, but she just freaked out and ran back to her place. I've been trying to call her for days. Will, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need your help. Emma has serious intimacy issues, way beyond anything I'm capable of helping her with. And it's not like she's not seeing a shrink once a week. It's like she doesn't want to get through these issues."

Will breathed in. "I'm sorry, Carl, I didn't… well, I just assumed the worst. Look, I care about her, too. A lot. I'd be more than willing to help you out. As much as it pains me to admit it, she's happy around you."

: : :

Mr. Schue started the rehearsal off with an announcement. "So, if you all have gotten the Bieber out of your system, we've got something important to discuss. We may have gained a new director…" Ms. Holliday, who was standing next to him, curtsied. "…but we're still short a member. This club needs to stage a comeback with a new member."

Rachel called out, "Or maybe we can get Kurt to _come back_."

Puck offered, "I'll gladly kidnap Karofsky and leave him in some uncharted portion of Michigan."

Ms. Holliday pondered that. "Ooh, that could work." Mr. Schue cleared his throat. She added, "But it is not appropriate."

Puck asked, "I thought you were supposed to be like our cool mom?"

Ms. Holliday's eyes widen. "No! I am totally the cool mom! But I've still got to be responsible. Mr. Schue and I are learning to meet in the middle."

Santana chirped, "Wanky."

Will cried, "Santana!"

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

"It was good timing," Ms. Holliday complimented. When Will shot her a disapproving glare, she commented, "Seriously, that's like your unsexiest expression." She then paused to reconsider this evaluation.

Brittany was still giggling at Santana. She caught Artie frowning at her, so she looked straight ahead, folding her hands in her lap.

Santana raised her hand. "I've got another option I'd like to present. Why don't we recruit multiple members so that every time we lose a member right before a competition, we're not screwed? And can I point out that we're two for three? If Preggers had stumbled upon her mother _before_ Regionals last year, we'd have a perfect record. Let's pad our numbers. Vocal Adrenaline probably has double our numbers. I counted fifteen Wamblers on stage at Sectionals."

Quinn asked, "What are you talking about, _loca_? We had twelve for Sectionals."

Santana tripped over her words, "Because we all ganged up on Karofsky and kept him from scaring Kurt away. And only in the short run. My point holds. Let's not just get one more member. Or just get Kurt. Let's load up."

Tina voiced the common concern. "Where are we going to find new members? We're social outcasts. We had the whole football team with us for a week and not one of them stuck around. Even if they're being relatively nice to us, the ceasefire might not hold out for much longer. I'm getting pictures of Sesame Street's Count von Count taped to my locker again."

Brittany raised her hand. "Oh, sorry, that was me. Oh, by the way, knee socks are in." She pointed to her waist. Rachel groaned.

Mercedes pointed out, "The only reason you three ex-Cheerios were here in the first place was because you were spies."

Quinn addressed her friend, "And we all fell in love with it."

Santana offered, "I'm ready to do my part. I've already got one candidate in mind to invite. When I was playing matchmaker for Puckerman last week, I noticed some sheet music in Faith Jennings's locker. Carrie Underwood."

"Ooh," Ms. Holliday cooed brightly, "You guys are kind of country-challenged."

Rachel jumped in, "Genevieve McLaire. We did _Grease_ at the local community theater. I beat her out for the part of Sandy, but she did quite well as Rizzo. She has a very good voice; it doesn't compare to my obviously, but..."

Mercedes asked, "_You're_ gonna invite someone?"

"I will not deny I have ulterior motives. We'll almost certainly be up against Vocal Adrenaline—including Sunshine Corazón—at Nationals this year. When we go, I'd like to have proof that I'm not the same saboteur that I was at the beginning of the year."

Will made an announcement in his excited announcing voice, "Well, it's settled. We're holding more auditions!"

: : :

Carl briskly walked through the hallways of McKinley High, entered Emma's office and stood in front of the door, trapping her inside.

"Emma, you've got to talk to me."

Emma was at her desk. "Carl, I…"

"Sweetie, I want you to come back home. Or at least come back to me. We've got a wedding in less than four months and the planner says you've been canceling all your appointments. Unless you want me to choose all the details… and frankly, I'm not good at it. It's quickly turning into a Beach Boys-themed wedding simply because it's on the beach."

"I just need some space, Carl."

"You've been alone for almost a week, Sweetheart. Have you been going to your psych appointments? I'm not privy to your records since we're not married yet."

Emma just nodded.

"Is it helping at all?"

Emma just shook her head _no_.

"Emma, Sweetie, I don't know what to do. You're obviously hurting and I can't figure out how I'm supposed to help. Is there something you're not telling me? About your past?"

"No," she insisted, "I just… I wasn't ready and I had convinced myself that I was, and now… I don't know."

"Plenty of people regret their first time. But this goes beyond that. Emma, we can't get married if you're not ready to be _married_ and all that it entails. Is this about Will? Are you still in love with him?"

"No! This is not about Will, Carl. This is about me and how messed up I am!"

Carl leaned over by Emma's side. "Sweetheart, you are not messed up. You have a very common condition that you've made huge strides in. Except Will tells me you've relapsed pretty bad."

"Will?"

"Yeah, he came to me about you. He was worried, and so am I."

Emma cowered deeper into her seat. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to be happy. And I want to make sure that it's me who can give that to you."

Emma remained silent.

: : :

It was twenty minutes into the scheduled audition time when the first candidate walked in. Santana was surprised to see it was Zira Phillips, her teammate on the track team. It was the first time Santana had seen her out of gym shorts and a tee-shirt; instead, she wore a shiny silk blouse over a pencil skirt. _A little dressy; maybe it's a European thing?_

"Lezzie," she greeted Santana as she walked by through the aisle.

"Limey," Santana called after her.

Zira got on stage. "So, my apologies for not auditioning earlier. We don't have glee clubs in England, so I wasn't aware that it was singing that you did."

"We've done performances at pep rallies," Will pointed out.

"Don't have those in England neither. Been skippin' 'em. No harm, no foul." She motioned for Brad to start and began to belt:

_A few stolen moments is all that we share  
You've got your family, and they need you there  
Though I've tried to resist, being last on your list  
But no other man's gonna do  
So I'm saving all my love for you_

Mercedes shook her head. "Uh-uh. That girl is not doing Whitney Houston. We've already got our fill of chocolate diva. Don't need none of that in here."

Mercedes's opinion was not shared by the rest of the glee club who cheered wildly for the British singer.

After another five minute silence, the next candidate walked in. He was a tall, broad-shouldered boy of Indian descent wearing cargo shorts and soccer jersey. He recounted awkwardly, "Hi, I'm Rajeesh Srinivasan. I'm on the soccer team and play keyboard in the jazz band, and Artie invited me to audition, so this is it." Artie was deposited on stage by Puck, Mike, and Sam. Rajeesh's awkwardness disappeared as began to strut on stage, with Artie backing up him on vocals.

_I'm so (Caught up)  
Got me feelin' it (Caught up)  
I don't know what it is  
But it seems she's got me twisted  
I'm so (Caught up)  
Got me feelin' it (Caught up)  
I'm losin' control  
This girl got a hold on me_

Mercedes eyes widened. "Uh-huh." She grabbed Tina's leg. "That fine boy is singing some Usher. We need all that in here. Why hasn't Artie introduced us?"

"Why not go introduce yourself and browbeat Artie later?"

"Not a bad idea."

Rajeesh's performance was well-received by the club. He bumped fists with Artie and walked down the stairs to fill out a sign-up sheet.

When Faith finally walked into the auditorium with a guitar case in her hand, Santana leapt up. "I was afraid you weren't coming." She looked at Faith's ensemble: a white blouse and blue jeans. It wasn't the fancy outfit that Zira had shown off, but it worked on her.

"When I told my mom I was doing a solo for choir, she thought she was supposed to take my guitar to church instead of school."

"Whatever, just get up there. You'd better be awesome because my rep's on the line."

"You're not a people person, are you?"

"Don't be nervous or whatever. Mr. Schue's easy to impress and everyone else has been pretty liberal with praise. There: pep talk."

Faith pulled out her guitar and then spent far too long tuning in Santana's opinion. She finally announced into the microphone, "Hi, my name's Faith Jennings, and I'll be doing my favorite song by Carrie Underwood. I think you'll all recognize it."

_She was driving last Friday on her way to Cincinnati  
On a snow white Christmas Eve  
Going home to see her Mama and her Daddy  
With the baby in the backseat  
Fifty miles to go and she was running low  
On faith and gasoline  
It'd been a long hard year_

_She had a lot on her mind and she didn't pay attention_  
_She was going way too fast_  
_Before she knew it she was spinning_  
_On a thin black sheet of glass_  
_She saw both their lives flash before her eyes_  
_She didn't even have time to cry_  
_She was so scared_  
_She threw her hands up in the air_

_Jesus, take the wheel_  
_Take it from my hands_  
_'Cause I can't do this on my own_  
_I'm letting go_  
_So give me one more chance_  
_To save me from this road I'm on_  
_Jesus, take the wheel_

Santana let out a sigh of relief. Faith was talented in both voice and instrument. At the end of the song, there was the typical cheering. Ms. Holliday turned around in her seat and whispered, "Good catch, Lopez. And what a cutie. Are you two…?"

"No," Santana insisted, "she's a total Jesus freak. Just a friend I made during a little project I was working on."

"She's got my vote."

Santana sat back down, noticing that Brittany had taken an interest in the conversation. She didn't have time to address her, as she jumped up in her seat to meet Faith. "That was pretty sweet," she complimented, "Glad you could come out."

"No problem. I love singing. So I'll see you around," she muttered, cautiously inching away from the Latina.

When Santana turned back Jewfro was on stage. "So," he asked, in that voice that could curdle milk, "Rachel, are you still dating Finn?"

Rachel glared, threading her arm through Finn's. "Yes, I am."

"Okay, then," he answered, walking off stage without another word.

The next candidate to appear on stage was the theater runt, and Santana almost didn't recognize her, as the girl had apparently changed her hair color from peroxide blonde to mahogany brown overnight, but kept it in the weird prickly bun with a pink plastic orchid stuck in it. She was wearing a blouse with a swirl of colors: purples, yellows, and green; and a short jean skirt with an elaborate flowers-and-vines motif sewn in. She was also wearing a huge pair of snow white clogs which failed to make her look any taller.

She handed sheet music to Brad, who gave it the once over, eyed her, and started playing. Genevieve, oblivious to the entire room, began to sing as if she were having a conversation in song:

_Whatever happened to my part?  
It was exciting at the start  
Now we're halfway through Act 2  
And I've had nothing yet to do._

_I've been offstage for far too long_  
_It's ages since I had a song_  
_This is one unhappy Diva_  
_The producers have deceived her_  
_There is nothing I can sing from my heart_  
_Whatever Happened to My Part?_

_I am sick of my career_  
_Always starting second gear_  
_Up to here, with frustration and with fears_  
_I've no Grammy no rewards_  
_I've no Tony Awards,_  
_I'm constantly replaced with Britney Spears_

Brittany began clapping in her seat. Rachel looked absolutely scandalized for reasons known only to herself. The song came to an end and Genevieve bowed in each direction, her eyes focused near the back of the room, when the majority of the club was sparsely dispersed near the front of the house.

When Lauren Zizes walked on stage, Santana was perplexed. Puck had convinced her to join last time not because of her love of music but because her love of his body. _Did he ask her to join? I know we have a little bit of club endogamy going on, but we're not __**that**__ incestuous, are we? Maybe she's joining to impress him? Except she already has him hooked. _

"This is 'Sweet Dreams' by the Eurythmics," she announced.

_Sweet dreams are made of this  
Who am I to disagree?  
I travel the world  
And the seven seas  
Everybody's looking for something.  
_

_Some of them want to use you  
Some of them want to get used by you  
Some of them want to abuse you  
Some of them want to be abused_

Santana wasn't sure what to make of Zizes's song. _Okay, she doesn't suck. Then again, it's it possible to suck on this song? _ The broad girl had injected the emotionless song with not the bleak, ominous feeling one would expect but rather a kind of prideful, victorious aura. It was disquieting. The club clapped politely, and Puck cheered louder in response to the deficit of enthusiasm. Zizes obviously noticed, but had no reaction, and simply exited the stage more assuredly than any of the other candidates had.

Meanwhile, outside the auditorium, Dave Karofsky was hovering near the back doors. He didn't see his teammate Chris Strando turn the corner. When Strando laid eyes on Karofsky, he scrambled to find the nearest trash can, where he stuffed in the sheet music to Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up". The noise alerted Karofsky, who jumped just as much as Strando when he saw his friend. "Hey," he said, lamely. "So, I was thinking about playing a prank on the glee freaks."

"Yeah, I had the same idea. Those posters are _everywhere_. What was your idea?"

Karofsky froze. "I was gonna wing it, but now I'm rethinking that idea. Principal Sylvester's watching me too close. It ain't worth it."

Strando was relieved. "No, that makes sense. I probably shouldn't put myself on her radar either. So, I'm guess we should just head home, right?"

"Yeah, probably a good idea. See you tomorrow, bro."

"See ya, player."

Karofsky waited a full thirty seconds and then opened his backpack where there was a printout of the sheet music to Hoobastank's "The Reason", which he stuffed back into his backpack and walked off.

: : :

Brittany came to school wearing dressed like Rachel: plaid skirt, knee socks, headband, and an animal sweater depicting a sleeping cat.

Artie wasn't pleased. "Girl, what's with this getup? You're covering everything up! I want people at this school to _see_ what they can't have 'cuz I gots it."

Brittany frowned. "Really, 'cause, like, _all_ of my thighs are exposed. I pulled the skirt up over my belly button and I'm pretty sure you can see my underwear when I walk."

"That's true. And I gots the perfect vantage point," he muttered, leaning over in his wheelchair to ogle Brittany's legs. Brittany turned and walked away. "Ooh, this angle ain't bad either!" When he noticed her body language was indicating anger, he raced after her. "Baby, I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

Brittany spun around and glared at him. "Why are you acting like this? Are you pretending to be Puck or something? But, you know, black Puck? Or white Puck pretending to be black? Wait, Puck's already white…"

Seeing that Brittany was on a ramble train, he interrupted, "I'm sorry. I thought maybe I wasn't giving you enough attention. I figured you'd like the street talk and the pervy glances."

"Why?" Brittany replied incredulously.

Artie didn't answer, hoping she'd make the connection. When she didn't, he asked, "What did you like about me in the first place?"

"You were a really nice guy, Artie."

"That may have worked in the beginning, but it's obviously not what you want anymore."

Brittany bowed her head guiltily. "I'll see you in glee, Artie. I'm excited about the new people."

Artie wasn't even listening. "You would be," he replied sadly.

: : :

Glee that afternoon got off to a late start. Will had sent out invitations to all the students who'd tried out, but none of them showed up at 3:30.

They'd reluctantly started discussing the anthem that was going to have to be part of their Regionals set list. Rachel listened about ten from various Broadway musicals before she was cut off. When she suggested "Seasons of Love" from _Rent_, Puck remarked that it sounded gay, and Santana had to slap upside the head. "Bad lesbro! No treat!"

Anthems from The Who to The Rolling Stones to Queen to The Beatles were thrown out, though none was a clear favorite, and Holly simply wrote them all down with pride.

Finally twenty minutes into practice, Lauren Zizes wandered in. "Sorry, emergency A/V club meeting. What's up?"

Puck perked up, much to Santana's dislike. Apparently his stop at Zizestown was going to be an extended stay. The girl suggested something from Twisted Sister once she was brought up to speed.

It wasn't until practice was dismissed that Santana realized none of the other candidates had shown up. Artie was muttering that Rajeesh had bailed on them to join Anthony Rashad's garage band. Mercedes looks particularly melancholy at this development. Rachel was passive-aggressively muttering how Genevieve was obviously intimated by her superior talent and then _apologized_ for scaring away so many recruits. Santana didn't say anything about her recruit, until Brittany brought it up.

"What happened to your… friend? The pretty one who sang about Jesus driving?" She seemed awfully shy.

"I don't know. I'll have to confront her about it. By the way, love the new look. Wanna give me some style tips?"

"Yeah!" Brittany beamed.

: : :

Santana came to school with Brittany that morning, both of them dressed in cat sweaters and skirts.

"I think this is the new trend," Santana remarked, "I look so classy, which really reflects the fact my GPA just jumped above a 3.5. A pair of glasses and I might just have to join the Quiz Bowl team."

"You'd look hot in glasses."

"I look hot in everything. We should try dressing like nuns tomorrows."

"Sexy nuns?"

"I don't think it's possible for us to be _unsexy_ nuns."

Artie rolled up. "Brittany," he greeted brightly. "Santana," he greeted darkly.

"Hey, Artie," Santana greeted brightly, just to spite him, "Do you like our new look? Britts and I are just crazy about pussy cats."

Artie's eyes narrowed, but Brittany didn't pick up on it, just looked down at her shirt. "How can you tell these are girl cats? And what are boy cats called?" Her mouth opened to speculate, but Artie cut her off.

"Tom cats."

"That must be confusing, all being named Tom."

"Can we talk about something else?" Artie asked.

"Nah," Santana replied to Brittany, "They can just go by 'Thomas' or 'Tommy' or 'Thomson.' And then you know that plenty of them have funny names like 'Macavity' and 'Rumpleteazer.'"

"Santana," Brittany replied dismissively, "That was just a play. Those weren't real cats. They were furries who mixed up their D.N.A."

Artie rolled his eyes, "Brittany, babe…" Brittany tensed at the term of endearment. "…do you maybe want to have lunch together in the choir room? I've got something cool I want to show you."

Brittany immediately turned to Santana, who kept her face neutral. Brittany turned back and with a visible lack of enthusiasm, replied, "Sure. I need to get some stuff out of my locker, but I'll see you there."

Santana turned to open her own locker. She had everything she needed in her backpack, but hoped to highlight the fact that their lockers were near each other. Artie got the message and rolled off.

"Sorry," she muttered weakly.

Santana hid her sadness. "For what? It's just lunch. It doesn't mean you're married to him."

Before Brittany could stumble through expressing her feelings, Rachel walked up, dragging Quinn by the arm behind her. "Ladies, are these or are these not the same style?" She pointed to her own typical style and Quinn, who was also dressed in a skirt and animal sweater.

"Q's totally rocking the kitty cat look. You seem to think the style is _trout_."

"These are _obviously_ betta fish, a colorful, elegant, and exotic breed, not unlike myself."

"Fish are so last week," Santana remarked.

On cue, Scott Cooper walked by and threw a Big Quench cup of murky water on Rachel. "It's salmon time, baby!" he joked, thrusting out the decal on his hockey jersey.

"Wow, and I thought the football jerks were dumb," Quinn replied.

Santana caught Brittany looking at her expectantly. "Oh, yeah, I'm the type of person who doesn't let this stand, right?" She turned to Rachel, "Look, Brittany will get you cleaned up, right?" Brittany nodded. "Q, you and me are going to break into the cafeteria and steal a box or two of fish sticks. I think you know why."

Quinn nodded as Brittany steered Rachel towards the restrooms.

As she watched the pair leave, she noticed Faith down the hallways, so she excused herself from Quinn and raced over to her locker. "You missed practice yesterday."

"Hi, Santana. I'm not joining. Sorry."

"Why not? Afraid your popularity going to plunge?"

"It's not that. My folks won't let me."

"Why not?"

Faith sighed. "The real reason I was so late was that I got into an argument with my mom after she dropped my guitar off. She's heard the rumors about how it got Kurt Hummel driven off."

"She's afraid you'll get bullied?"

She acidly explained, "No, she's afraid I'll become one of those 'deviants' who got that 'nice boy' Dave Karofsky in trouble. Worse, she doesn't like that 'that lesbian' is part of the club." She resisted making eye contact with Santana.

"Oh." Santana took a step back.

"Santana…"

"So, that's it? You don't approve of me or Kurt?"

"It's not that. Frankly, I don't know where I stand on the issue. You seem perfectly nice… basically. And I really don't know Kurt that well, but I never heard anything negative about him except he was a little full of himself. Outside the 'fag' language."

"Your family thinks that God considers us abominations?"

Faith's fingers brushed a verse taped to her locker: John 3:16. "God loves everybody, and I believe that. But at the same time I'm told that He hates certain people, and I don't know how I'm supposed to believe that, too. But I do believe the Bible is truth and ignoring certain passages because I don't like them is a danger precedent. It's just an issue I haven't really reconciled my belief on."

"That's a lot of words to say 'yes'."

"It's a lot of words to say I don't want to hate you for who you are."

"My parents drag me to mass exactly twice a year, once at midnight in the dead of Ohio winter and once at the crack of dawn on a Sunday when it's still chilly. At one, I learn about a magical baby born in a barn under a supernova with cows and angels. At the other, I learn that that baby grows up to be a total badass who gets Himself nailed a piece of wood so that all the things I do don't get me sent to Hell: the mean things… the dumbass things… the really awesome, beautiful things that a bunch of rednecks think are unnatural."

"I'm sorry, Santana. It seems dumb to me, too. Glee looks like a fun club, even though I kind of disapprove of the songs you guys do at the pep rallies. But it's not my decision; my parents won't sign the release form that allows me to go to your competitions. And do you expect me to lie to them about why I stay after school three times a week? It'll get back to them. They're very nosy."

"A kid's gotta learn to stand up to their parents."

Faith shrugged, "Someday maybe I'll learn to overlook that passage in Leviticus. Doesn't mean I'm not going to follow the Fifth Commandment."

"'Don't kill people'?"

"'Honor your mother and father.' I think Catholics renumber them."

"I think you don't fully understand the Protestant Reformation."

Faith chuckled to herself. "I don't suppose you want to be my friend."

"Ask me again when you're not afraid of me turning you to the dark side." Santana walked away. Faith watched her go, staring a little more intently than she thought ought to at Santana's skirt.

: : :

Santana had had enough of Brittany's constant pouting. She held an intervention for her in the library during lunch. Technically, since she didn't invite all of Brittany's friends and family, it was more of a confrontation.

Now that they were alone in a secluded part of the library, she asked, "Brittany, do you know why I asked you here?"

"Not really. There's only two reasons you ever invite me to the library. The first is to deface the yearbook. The second is… something we don't do anymore."

"Sweetie, it's been a week since Artie asked you for a second chance. Do you want to be with him?"

Tears filled Brittany's eyes. "I just… promised him after Valentine's Day that I would _really_ consider staying with him."

"Sweetie, you gave it your all. Artie can't fulfill all your needs."

"You mean sexy things?"

"Is it sexy things?" Santana already knew the answer to that question.

Brittany nodded. "He's so sweet and tender, but… it's not enough."

"Brittany, I know what I said before, but I can't stand seeing you like this. You asked me why you couldn't have us both, why things couldn't be like they used to be, and I told you that it was because I couldn't share. Sweetie, what I can't do is have a little of you but not have it all. So, this is me admitting defeat. If you want me on the side, I'll up for it. It's up to you whether you tell Artie."

"No, that wouldn't be right." Santana frowned, but Brittany had more to say. "I'm going to break up with him. For good."

Santana's heart leapt. _This is going better than planned; I was just gonna seduce her. _She let Brittany, who obviously had a lot of words backed up in her brain, continue.

"I love Artie. I really do. He's so kind and so wonderful to me. He makes me feel wanted. But I'm not sure I want him anymore. Not the way I should if he's my boyfriend. I'm not saying I just have ebonic feelings for him, but my girly feelings aren't strong enough." She struggled to hold something in, but failed, "I miss you and I love you and I'm not saying I love you better than, I'm just saying I love you…"

"Differently."

Brittany nodded.

Santana was almost incapable of containing her excitement._ No, seriously, this is everything. This could like be the moment where I've fixed everything. She like seconds away from her asking to be with me. Mission accomplished! _

Santana continued the conversation's downward descent. "It's going to be hard on Artie no matter what. He's really attached to you. For a while, he's going to be mad at you. But not forever. He and Tina may not exactly be good friends, but they're civil and they've moved on. You guys will too. I don't want you to worry about his feelings, though. Think about your own feelings." She went in for the kill, placing her hand on top of Brittany's. "You know you can come to me for anything. For _everything_. I'll give you everything Artie gave you, and more if I can manage it." Her hand started to snake up Brittany's forearm.

Brittany pulled her arm away. "Thank you, Santana, but we can't start dating."

"Wait, what?" _This conversation took a sharp turn in the wrong direction. _

"This is a serious adult-ish relationship. I can't just jump from boyfriend to girlfriend. I owe it to Artie. I need a little bit of time."

Santana leaned her head back in frustration. "God, you're so _noble_," she said it like it was a dirty word. She calmly admitted, "I've been waiting for you for longer than you could imagine. What's another week or two? We're talking a week or two, right?"

It was Brittany's turn to place her hand on Santana's arm. "Very soon, Santana. I can't just jump between your legs yet."

Santana chuckled. "You mean into my arms?"

"Yeah, that's the one. I do plan on jumping between your legs, though."

She said it so casually, Santana almost didn't catch it. "Wait, what?" _This conversation has too many twists and turns. _

"I'm on the rebound," Brittany explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Santana, haven't you heard? Sex isn't dating."

* * *

A/N: God, if **lets_duet** wasn't up to her ass in prompts, I'd have her write a nice Brittany/Santana sexy-times snippet.

Goddamn you, Glee, for making me Google Justin Bieber songs because "Baby" wasn't appropriate for a stable relationship. And that _ruined_ my original, funny title: "Baby, Come Back." Sam sang "Love Me" instead.

So, what are the odds that the same four ladies who Santana approached last week would all be talented singers (and Zizes) who all decide to try out? In the real word, infinitesimally small. On _Glee_, one hundred percent. But why create all these characters and not _use_ them, i.e. have them join glee? Because there's no need. Not everything works out on the show either. If I ever do a Season 3 AU, I'll probably include some of these characters.

Zira sang "Saving All My Love For You" by Whitney Houston, the same song Burke auditioned for _The X Factor_ with.

Rajeesh, based on the cut character from the original pilot, who I would cast Anoop Desai for, sang Usher's "Caught Up", which one of the songs Desai sang for _American Idol_.

Faith's song was Carrie Underwood's "Jesus Take the Wheel" because it's the most obvious popular country song with overt religious undertones.

Genevieve sang "A Diva's Lament (What Happened to My Part?)" from _Spamalot_, because Lauren Lopez only does independent musicals and it fits well into Genevieve's meta-theater beliefs.

Lauren Zizes performed Eurhymic's "Sweet Dreams". I chose it because it fit Ashley Fink's need for speak-singing and Zizes _would_ sing the chorus ironically.

I had Karofsky considering performing "The Reason" by Hoobastank for obvious reasons. He's a (sympathetic) villain and I particularly despise Hoobastank's name. The song's not half-bad, though.

I had Strando planning on singing "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley, because _Glee_ really ought to Rick-Roll the television audience at some point and Strando was meant to be a class clown character. Then again, I've heard the cast really want to do "Friday" by Rebecca Black, which is worse.

Also, I complain about this a lot, but I did not steal Emma regressing to her OCD state once things get rocky with Carl from "A Night of Neglect." Also, the fact that Holly doesn't immediately jump to conclusions about Will and Emma is not a reaction to the episode. Seriously, my Holly is so much better than the canon Holly.

Random trivia: Heather Morris and Max Adler both went to high school in Scottsdale, Arizona. They were only a year apart but went to different schools. Am I the first one who's noticed this?


	17. In Vino Varietas

Doing It Right: Chapter 17  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: M  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. Brittany's agreed to dump Artie, but it might take a little libation for Santana to win her heart for good.  
Spoilers: 2x14 "Blame It on the Alcohol"

A/N: This chapter is M. Mostly for the whole "sex isn't dating" thing. No PWP obviously.

You'll notice the gleecap at the beginning. I'll be going back and adding those to all the chapters. This one also has subchapter headings, mostly because of the theme. The titles are all badly translated Latin and a lot of them don't make too much sense. _I don't want to hear about it._ I'm abusing my artistic license here.

* * *

Chapter 17: _In Vino Varietas_ (In Wine, There Is Variety)

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Sam and the boys sang Justin Bieber to win their girlfriends' hearts and it totally worked, except in Artie's case. He was still trying to get Brittany to stay with him and he was totally failing. Emma started going back to her old habits and Will thought maybe Carl had something bad to her, but it turned out that Emma's just really sick. Without Kurt, New Directions needs some new members, and even though they got several awesome audition-ers, only Lauren Zizes ended up joining, which made Santana really mad because she personally invited a girl name Faith who she ends up thinking is a homophobe; she's not. Santana then asks Brittany if she wants some on-the-side loving, but Brittany turns her down and decides to break up with Artie. Yay! But, no, she's not ready for another relationship. Boo! But there's a silver lining: "Sex isn't dating." And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

**In Vino Voluptas**

Santana's grades were as good as they'd ever been. It helped that she'd learned all the material before. Two weeks had passed since she last time-jumped. She'd never admit to Sam she made this reference, but it was like _Avatar_: she came to understand the life she was living was her real life, not the life she came from. The obvious difference was that she shortened Artie and Brittany's relationship on both ends, starting it several weeks later, and ending it… well, ending it.

Brittany had refused to jump into a romantic relationship with her, but seemed content to become friends with benefits again. This was perfectly fine for Santana, and not just because she got access to Brittany's body again, but because she was able to resume her cuddly, romantic seduction of Brittany again.

Brittany, drenched in sweat, fell back onto her bed, huffing and puffing with exhaustion.

_Well, I'll get to the cuddly, romantic stuff later. Let's enjoy a little no-strings-attached headboard-slamming. _

Santana descended upon her, aggressively pressing her lips into Brittany's. The blonde only barely had enough energy to reciprocate. Kissing down her neck, Santana whispered, "So, I take it you missed me."

Through her heaving breaths, Brittany replied, "I think you may have missed me more."

Santana giggled, taking Brittany's earlobe into her teeth and pulling. "That's true. Gosh, I was abstinent for like three months. That's very unnatural for Santana Lopez. I guess I'm just making up for lost time. Ready for Round 2?"

Brittany's brow furrowed. "Wasn't that like…?" She slid a hand up from underneath Santana, counting on it before pulling out the other one. "This might need two hands."

Santana laced her fingers with Brittany's. "I've got something that needs two hands right here." She pulled Brittany's hands down under the covers again. Brittany rolled her head back, resigned to her fate.

"You're pure evil," she joked.

Some time later, when Brittany had gone from merely exhausted to completely boneless, Santana slid out from under the covers and slipped on a pair of floral briefs and a tank top. Utilizing the last of her energy, Brittany rolled her head to the side and asked, "Oh, are you leaving?"

Santana spun around, sitting cross-legged on the bed facing Brittany. "Not if you don't want me, too. It's up to you." She threaded her fingers through the sticky blonde hair splayed across the pillow.

"Stay."

Santana smiled widely, sliding back under the covers, wrapping her arms around Brittany's nude form, "Okay. Let's put in some _Xena: Warrior Princess_ and make wild speculations."

"I don't think I can handle any more of that."

Santana burst out laughing, pressing her face into Brittany's still-bare shoulder.

"**In wine, there is pleasure." **

: : :

**In Vino Vorago**

Dressed in her Rachel Berry outfit, Brittany walked out of the library, leaving a grinning Santana behind. When she reached the choir room, Artie was putting his laptop away.

"Hey, Brittany, did you get lost?"

"No, I, uh, forgot about our lunch plans."

"Well, no biggie, I just had a video to show you. I can bring it up again." He started to pulled out his laptop again.

"Artie, we need to talk," she mumbled.

Artie frowned. "I know that means. You're breaking up with me."

Brittany clenched her fists. "How does everyone know what I'm thinking all the time?" She exhaled. "Artie, I'm sorry, but I don't want us to be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore."

Artie kept his voice even. "Is this because of Santana?"

"I don't want to lie to you. It is a little bit."

"Figures she would break us up. She did last time."

Brittany cuttingly replied. "She's not breaking us up. _I_ am. I'm not happy, Artie… dating you."

"You used to be."

Brittany couldn't keep her eyes focused on him. "Not anymore. I don't have the right feelings for you. I think it would be better if we were just friends."

The edge in Artie's voice finally appeared. "Are you going to say anything that's not a cliché? Are you going to tell me 'it's not you, it's me' next?"

"Yes. It _is_ you. You're not the person I want to be with."

"But Santana is?"

"That doesn't matter." There was something like fear, a trembling, in her voice.

"It does if you're leaving me for her."

"I'm not Santana's girlfriend," she insisted.

"But you're going to be, right?"

"Maybe. But not now. I mean, she's a lesbian, and really hot, and we have awesome sex, and she… she wants to be with me and I… I want that, too."

Artie laughed sadly. "You're not very good at letting a guy down easy. You realize I'm going to get teased for this, right? My girlfriend leaves me for another girl. It's like Ross from _Friends_."

"I like _Friends_. And, by the way, Ross totally got together with Rachel, who was way hot and fell in love with him." Artie laughed, and Brittany bowed her head in embarrassment. "Did I say something stupid?"

"No, you said something really smart, Brittany. I'm gonna miss you."

That was too much for her, so she power-walked out of the classroom and began running the moment she was out of Artie's sight. Her legs carried her to her locker, where Santana was waiting. Seeing the tears building in her eyes, her best friend gave her a look of honest sympathy. Without a word, she cradled Brittany in her arms as the blonde cried. "He was so sad. He was being all brave and manly, but I could tell. Am I a bad person?"

"No, Sweetie, you're not. I've dumped a thousand guys and I didn't care about any of them. If anything, I'm the bad person. You care, and that makes you a wonderful person."

"Can I come over tonight?" Santana nodded at her request. "I don't know if I want to…" she admitted.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here for you."

"You're not a bad person, Santana."

"**In wine, there is a chasm." **

: : :

**In Vino Verecundia**

"So, let me get this straight," Will stated, as he stood with Holly in what used to be a janitor's closet at McKinley, which now had contained with a small desk that Figgins was seated behind. "Sue hired you back as assistant principal?"

"Yes, she feels overworked now that she has taken the job as the coach of Vocal Adrenaline."

Incredulous, Will remarked, "How can she do that? She's the principal of one school and coaching the glee club of another? Not only that, but a school in a different _state_ who we're competing against in glee, not to mention several sports? The sheer number of conflicts of interests is astounding."

"We're not here to talk about that, William, Holland."

"Holly's not actually short for anything," Holly noted.

Undeterred, Figgins continued, "I am concerned about the alcohol problem we have at this school. It is affecting me personally."

"How is that?" Will wondered aloud.

At that moment, a male and female student opened the door and entered unannounced, sloppily kissing. The boy pressed the girl against the wall and then noticed the three adults in the room. Not quite sure of his feet, the boy stated, "Sorry, wrong turn. We were trying to get to… uh…"

"…Math," the girl finished, giggling drunkenly, before she and her paramour ran off.

"I see," Will admitted.

"What would like for us to do?" Holly asked.

"I was very impressed with the sexual education program you are planning, Holland. I was hoping that you would do a lesson plan on the dangers of drinking for our Alcohol Awareness Week."

"Mrs. Pepino did a drug and alcohol program last semester."

"It does not appear to have had much of an effect," Figgins replied, somehow managing to add deadpan to his already droll tone.

Just then Mr. Kinney entered, apologizing for the intrusion and asking for a mop. "Sorry, Figgins, haven't moved all my stuff yet."

After managing to pass the mop in the confined space past the crowd, Will asked, "Jerry, where did you move to?"

"Eh, there's a closet on every floor, but Sue gave me Miss Castle's old room."

"We had to let her go," Figgins explained, "she held a kegger for students in her classroom. It was apparently a weekly thing. Had a passing policeman not seen her doing a keg stand through the window, it might have continued for some time."

"Oh, yeah, I had to take on her classes," Holly explained, "It overlaps with one of my health classes during sixth period, but I made it work. Luckily, we were studying obesity and the collapse of super-large stars at the same time."

Mr. Kinney announced, "I got to go up to clean up some more vomit. See y'all around."

Will asked, "Figgins, why did you need to see me?"

"I was hoping you two would have your glee kids do a song for our Alcohol Awareness Assembly."

"Absolutely, our kids would love to help."

"They're very responsible," Holly added.

On cue, Santana and Brittany burst into the room. Upon seeing the adults, Santana pushed Brittany away immediately, explaining, "Sorry, we needed to borrow... some paper towels. Toilet overflow."

"It was a basilisk," Brittany explained.

"Well, we'll go find Mr. Kinney," Santana replied as she drug Brittany out the door, who failed to adequately close the door.

"I thought we weren't going to do it in front of other people anymore."

"We're going to the locker room, you doof."

Will seemed perplexed by this development. Holly just smiled knowingly.

"We should go talk to Emma," Holly suggested, "maybe this will get her mind off of her problems."

"You're right. There's no reason why we shouldn't involve the guidance counselor."

Five minutes later, Holly stated, "Well, there's _one_ reason why we shouldn't involve the guidance counselor during alcohol awareness week."

Emma was asleep on her desk, sunglasses on her eyes to block out what little sunlight was filtering through her closed blinds. The stench of vodka filled the room. Holly shook the counselor awake.

"Oh, Holly, Will, how are you?" She tried to fix her hair the best she could.

"Emma," Will replied, "I think we should be the ones asking you that."

She began cheerily, "I'm…" She immediately admitted despondently, "I've been better. Carl cancelled our wedding."

Holly clutched her chest. "Oh, no, did you two…?"

"We haven't really figured that out yet." She broke into sobs.

Will and Holly looked at each other. Holly sighed and took a place next to Emma. "Listen, Emma, Carl loves you very much. I'm sure the reason he canceled your wedding wasn't that he doesn't want to marry you. I think he just knows you need some more time. You should talk to him."

"I'm trying!" Emma screamed and Will ran to the door to make sure the passing period had finished and there were no students milling around. "But every time I pick up the phone to talk to him, I freak out and… well, instead I dust and reorganize my files. There's only so many ways to sort the letters of the alphabet."

Will spoke up, "Well, we can't have you alone tonight. I'll talk to Shannon and we'll all do something fun together to get your mind off this for a little while. That way, you'll be able to deal with this tomorrow."

"**In wine, there is shame." **

: : :

**In Vino Voces**

On her black cell phone, Santana asked, "That sounds terrible. Is anyone gonna go?"

Not two feet from her, Brittany replied on her own white cell phone, "I'll find out. Let me call Tina." She pressed a button on her phone. "Did you hear?"

Tina replied, "Yeah, Mercedes just told me."

Mercedes leaned in. "Tell them I'll go if they go."

"_You_ tell her. Santana still scares me a little."

"We're on conference, you know; I can hear you," Santana quipped. _Yep, still got it. _

Tina pulled her phone away from her head while Mercedes turned on her headset, asking, "You're going right?"

_Since nothing's changed since last time… _"Only if there's booze. Because a Rachel Berry party is _not_ something I can do sober. It's bad enough that I have to be responsible for my actions at school." Santana winked at Brittany, who covered her phone so that Tina and Mercedes wouldn't see her blush.

"Santana, it's Alcohol Awareness Week," Brittany hissed.

"Yeah, I know, and I'm _aware_ of how much fun alcohol is. Anything can happen." She eyed Brittany again, who held her phone away from her and shushed her. Santana rolled her eyes. "Let's ask Puckerman." Santana pushed a button on her phone. _Huh, Puck's still on speed dial. Maybe I should change that. Nah, I added Kurt, and they're both my lesbros. _

"You're go for Puck," he answered.

"Hey, Puck, it's Santittany and… Tina, Mercedes, what's your couple name?"

"'Mina'?" Mercedes ventured.

"No, that's me and Mike. What about… Merina?" Tina sounded out.

"Ooh, I like it." She and Tina wiggled their fingers at each other.

"Me, too," Santana answered, "Puck, it's Santittany and Merina. That's Mercedes and Tina, by the way."

"Yeah, I was here for that whole conversation. What's up?"

"Can your friend score us some wine coolers?"

"No, but his I.D. can." At that moment, Puck met Santana and Brittany at the end of the hallway, where the pair had just encountered Mercedes and Tina coming from the adjacent hallway.

"If we're all in, it's settled," Mercedes declared, "The Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza is officially a go."

"**In wine, there are voices."**

: : :

**In Vino Veniæ**

Dave Karofsky stared into the astronomy room, where Berry, Hummel, Lopez, and Brittany were seated in a circle, passing around a mop.

"Welcome to the first session of the William McKinley Senior High GayLesbAll," Rachel announced.

Karofsky turned and walked away.

"**In wine, there is mercy." **

: : :

**In Vino Vitium**

Santana and Brittany were one of the first guests to arrive at Rachel's house. Their hostess was wearing a prairie dress. _Hmm, I wondered how I forgot to call ahead and tell her to wear something hot._ Santana looked to her left where a sexily-dressed Brittany stood. _Oh, yeah, that's right. I was distracted by helping __**somebody**__ pick out an outfit. It's not my fault putting on a new clothes requires removing the clothes you have on first. _"Look, Ber—Rachel, just putting this out there. Since we're friends and whatnot, anytime you want to go clothes shopping with me and Britts, you're welcome to it."

"It that your nice way of criticizing what I'm wearing?"

"Nicest way you're gonna hear it."

Rachel looked the pair up and down. Santana had dressed Brittany in a black miniskirt, a white striped tank, and a ruffled white jacket. Brittany had added a black tie, polka dot socks, and a fedora. Santana was wearing a blue-and-black striped minidress, and Brittany had added a faux-fur vest to the ensemble. Rachel looked amused.

Santana pointed at the full-size painting of Rachel behind the real Rachel, "Hey, Britts look at that." Brittany's eyes widened as she looked back and forth between the two Rachels. Santana pulled Rachel aside. "Yeah, if B's fashion taste is a little too eclectic, we can go solo, too."

Santana pulled Brittany away from the painting, which she was tapping as if trying to get its attention. They descended the stairs only to find Artie waiting at the bottom.

"Hi," Brittany said awkwardly.

"Hi," Artie replied, "are you two already…?"

"We just drove over together," Santana clarified, "well, we don't want to monopolize your time." She dragged Brittany away to the couch. Mike and Tina were over by the stage, impromptu-dancing. Sam and Quinn were sitting next to one another, Quinn's head tilted to the side so that Sam could lean in and kiss him with his big lips. _Geez, PDA much? Wow, you are quite the chastity queen. I was in his lap by this point. Speaking of which…_ Santana looked over to Brittany, who was eyeing Sam and Quinn, too. Her eyes locked with Santana's, but shot over to where Artie was. _Okay, on second thought, let's wait until we get liquored up first. She'll be more pliable and I'll have an excuse to be forward. _

Puck and Lauren showed up next, followed closely by Mercedes. She shared fist bumps with Puck and Mercedes, and thinly-veiled snarls with Lauren, whose first words to her were, "So, how many blondies you got in your harem?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. You've poached Heidi Klum here from Artie, and there's the Taylor Swift wannabe you hooked for the auditions. Should I ask what services you provided when you were Queen Bee's lackey?"

"Okay, one, Brittany and I are best friends. Two, Quinn and Faith are cut from the same cloth: Born-Again Leg-Crossers who wouldn't know what do with a woman once they had one in bed. Three, dare I presume what kind of action the sole girl on the wrestling team gets?"

Brittany's quick reflexes saved Santana from a punch in the face.

"Whoa, low brow, Lopez," Puck warned.

"You're right," Santana replied, holding her hands up defensively, "Zizes, enjoy the party. If you're going to be dating Puckerman, we should be friends."

"Sure, shake on it?" she extended her meaty hand, which was already clenching.

"Eh-eh, not that stupid." Santana pulled Brittany back to the middle of the room, as she'd hopped up on the table and was getting yelled at by Rachel. She was getting kind of dizzy from all the tugging on her arm that Santana was doing.

Finn, Kurt, and Blaine were the last to arrive and were being greeted by ever-the-proper-hostess Rachel. Santana hugged Kurt, and Brittany did, too. As Blaine introduced himself to Brittany, she took it as an invitation to hug him like old friends who'd be separated for years, which was a good summation of Brittany's feelings about meeting new people.

Santana extended her hand. "So, you must be Blim."

"It's Blaine."

"She knows that," Kurt groaned.

"We met over Valentine's Day, actually."

"Did we?" Santana replied. _Okay, living things over twice is very hard on the brain. _"You're right; I do believe you sang that 'love doesn't come at all' to me."

Blaine blushed. "Yeah, you were looking pretty lonely. I guess I was wrong." He indicated Brittany, who bashfully folded her head.

"Oh! We're actually kind of at a… casual stage right now. I wonder what gave you the idea." She frowned at Kurt, who threw up his hands defensively.

She told Blaine, "Your gaydar must be better than Kurt's if you caught onto us."

"Well, let me just say the Chinese aerospace administration could sense the tension."

Brittany giggled, "It's funny because the Chinese are decades behind us in the space race."

Santana and Kurt did a double take at Brittany.

"Oh, sorry, I'm flaunting my intelligence. You see, the Chinese people's moon got eaten by a dragon, so they had to send a samurai into space to retrieve it. Since Tom Cruise is the last one, they had to sneak him into the country. Luckily, he was already a scientist. I watch a lot of PBS," she bragged.

Rachel was now yammering about the two-wine cooler rule, and in response, Mike and Tina announced their dinner reservations.

Santana turned to Brittany, "Batwoman's gotta go save this party."

Puck was already with Rachel, offering to break into her dads' liquor cabinet. Santana offered, "I've got a bottle of tequila in the trunk of my car, too."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Not when it's in green tea bottles in an unopened carton. What? My mom has her own shrink wrapping machine. Don't ask why."

After a moment of deliberation, Rachel screamed, "Let's party!"

Santana looked to Brittany. _Let's._

"**In wine, there is sin."**

: : :

**In Vino Vigor**

_Poppin' bottles in the ice  
Like a blizzard  
Now I'm feeling so fly  
Like a G6_

_Let's go, like a G6_

Two wine coolers and a single shot of tequila was barely enough to get Santana buzzed. Brittany, on the other hand, had taken in three wine coolers, a "margarita" Puck had concocted with two shots of tequila and a Sprite, a Juicy Juice appletini Tina had prepared for some of the girls, and finished it off with a body shot off of Santana. Needless to say, the blonde had lost all reservations and was now racing around the room. Santana was pulling dress down, ending the show that the body shot had warranted, so she could chase her. Brittany had stolen her vest, and Santana was intent of retrieving it, despite the fact she herself had stolen Brittany's jacket, leaving the blonde running around in a pink bra and a vest that hid little more.

Once Santana had caught Brittany, she'd directed her to the couch and plopped herself into her lap, and it was all lips and tongue from there. No doubt Artie would witness their affection. _His loss is my gain. All's fair in love and war. And platitudes need not fill my brain when Brittany's hands are grazing my ass. _

The rest of the room was either playing drinking games or dancing. Santana, feeling her buzz wane, reached down and found a bottle of rum that she'd left on the floor. There was also a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke on the couch, so she and Brittany began mixing the liquids in each other's mouths. "You're good at this," Brittany remarked, pouring a little bit of Diet Coke on herself, which Santana licked up.

Finn and Rachel were seated a few feet from them. Finn was stone cold sober, explaining something to the drunk-as-a-skunk Rachel. "Since this is your first time at this, I'm gonna break it down for you. Guys and girls fall into certain archetypes when they get drunk."

Rachel giggled a lot. "How do you know that word?"

Finn frowned at his girlfriend. "We talked about it in English today. I listen in class. Most of the time." Santana giggled, too, but mostly because Brittany had picked her up and deposited her on the seat of the couch so they could switch places and was now removing her tie for some nefarious purpose. Finn began his diatribe, "We've got the happy-for-no-reason drunk… Exhibit A: Mercedes and Tina."

Mercedes and Tina were leaning on each other, laughing so hard their sides hurt.

Tina related, "I think I love Mike. I mean, we get along so well. He's the perfect boyfriend. My parents love him. His parents haven't used the word _shame_ about me in two months, which is _huge_ for one of Mike's girlfriends."

Mercedes agreed, "Everything _is_ awesome. The whole glee club is friends… are friends? And I've come to terms with being single. I don't _need_ a man to complete me. I'm confident that I'm going to find someone, and now I know it will be on _my_ terms. I'm not desperate." She and Tina hugged tightly.

Finn pointed towards Brittany and Santana a few feet away. "The girl who turns into a stripper for the first person she sees drunk… Brittany, as you can see."

Santana mentally agreed, which was about all her mind was able to process, since she was being reminded that Brittany became more dominant when drunk and her purpose for the tie was to bind Santana's wrists behind her back. She was in her lap now, dancing to the music in a _very_ sensual way and discarding the fur vest, and leaning in very close. Santana's eyes remained locked on her cleavage, but her ears were open to the whispers she left there. "Remember when we were eleven and we went to the park and there was this squirrel who told me that I was the queen of Neptune and he was my royal subject and I said I'd only go if I could take you to be my assistant queen?"

Rachel mused, "Santana is so lucky to have access that stomach! Do you think she ever eats tortillas off of it?" She then shrieked and covered her face like she'd said something unforgivably scandalous.

Finn chuckled. "Speaking of Santana, otherwise known as the hysterical-weepy-spout-nonsense drunk…"

Santana muttered aloud, "I love you. I love you so much. I want to be with you forever and ever." Brittany didn't seem to catch her declarations of love; she was too absorbed in the music. Breaking down in sobs, Santana pressed her face forward, landing square between Brittany's bra-covered breasts. Her mind got fuzzy and she sobered up just enough to realize she'd just told Brittany she loved her.

_Oh, shit, am I going to return to the present? No, I can't! Things are getting dark. I can feel my mind being yanked across the time stream. _

_No, scratch that. It's just the rum. Oh, thank you, Captain Jack. No, Captain Morgan. Captain Jack is the yummy Johnny Depp. Wait, should I still find him yummy? I'm like the worst lesbian ever. Well, geez, I think every should get one exception. _

_But why is so dark? _

_Oh, that's right._

Santana pulled herself back from Brittany's chest. She screamed out, "You like me more than Artie, right? Right?" Brittany, deaf except for the music, didn't answer. "Please! You're blond and awesome and so… _warm_." She pressed the side of her head to Brittany's neck. "Just kiss me." Brittany was now close enough to hear Santana's rambling, so she tilted her head down. Santana yanked one hand free so she could grabbed Brittany's face for a searing kiss.

Finn was watching intently, his monologue long forgotten when Rachel slapped him with a mild amount of force. She squeezed his cheeks and pulled his face down to hers. "You were saying?" She grinned, forgiving the incident immediately.

Clearing his throat, Finn's eyes scanned the room. He pointed towards where Sam and Puck were sitting on stage, their arms wrapped around each other. "Now we have the philosophical drunk who's suddenly really deep and thoughtful… Sam, it seems…"

"You can't do anything greater than what you've already done, unless you do something so great, it eclipses everything that you'll ever do."

Puck's eyes shot open. "DUDE! You're so right! It's like fucking karma. Heh, I met a girl name Karma once."

"Puck, too, in a way." Finn then indicated the boys' approaching girlfriends. "And now we'll be introduced to the angry drunks… Zizes and Quinn."

Lauren Zizes screamed at Puck, "I just realized; it's not romantic to say that I'm so hot I look like a hot girl who ate two other hot girls!"

Quinn punched Sam in the stomach. Between her tiny fist and Sam's strong midsection, he didn't seem fazed. That is, until she started screaming: "I want those! I want them right here!" She tried to lift up her shirt, only to realize she was wearing a dress, so she lifted _that_ up, only to realize that her jean jacket was in the way, so she threw _that_ off, and then pulled her dress up to show off her well-toned stomach which had the faintest of stretch marks marring them.

She yelled at Puck, "This is all your fault!" She then proceeded to punch him in the stomach. "Ow," she whimpered shaking out her hand. "Note to self, don't get mad at Mike Chang, too."

"I think those are the panties you were wearing when I knocked you up," Puck joked, which got him punched in the stomach by Lauren, which made him crumple into a ball.

"Nice haircut, Puckerman," Lauren called down to him.

Finn looked down at his girlfriend snuggled into his arm. "And we come back to the overly-lovey, cuddly drunk…"

Rachel burrowed further into Finn's arm. "Is that me?"

"Yep. And not just you."

Rachel extracted herself to see that Blaine was doing the same thing to Finn's other arm.

He looked up to Finn's face. "It's so cool that you and Kurt are brothers. _Brothers_. Wow. It's like if Hagrid and Neville were brothers."

Kurt sat down on Blaine's other side and began to pull him off of Finn. "I'm just going to take this off your hands. Even if he's giving me body issues with that comparison."

"Well, who's the sexy, fashionable Hogwarts character? Malfoy? He's just a little shit."

Kurt noted, "Okay, somebody's tongue gets a little loose when they're drunk."

"Yeah!" Blaine pointed past Kurt where Santana and Brittany were French-kissing.

When Kurt turned back, Blaine had snuggled into _him_, and he didn't look the least bit peeved about it.

Rachel was looking past Kurt, too. She told her boyfriend, "You lost your virginity to a lesbian." She cracked up.

Finn carefully remarked, "You're laughing about it. Does that mean we're okay?"

Rachel's face fell. "Almost. I'm a very dramatic person and I need to work through my anger. I should sing." The thought left her mind. "Hey, you missed Mike!"

Finn watched Mike for a few seconds. "Well, Mike is about to demonstrate the ever-famous clumsy drunk."

Mike stumbled around the room, vaguely in the direction of Tina and Mercedes. He bumped into the table, making it wobble. To correct it, he grabbed the edge, but the sudden movement sent the shot glasses rolling off the table. He dove for them, catching all three by chance. But a nearly-empty bottle of vodka was still dancing on the table, so Mike leapt off the floor using his dance skills, tossing one shot glass in the air and catching it with the hand that held the other two. He righted the bottle and placed the three shot glasses down. Proud of himself, he spun around, his hand knocking over a plastic cup castle on the minibar. He quickly grabbed every fallen cup and stacked them into four neat piles. Seemingly sober, he walked straight towards his girlfriend, tripping on the edge of the carpet, and falling down face-first with all the grace of a vaudevillian actor.

"Bravo!" Mercedes cried out.

"Encore! Encore!" Tina added, bouncing in her seat. She blew kisses.

Rachel's eyes widened. "That gives me an idea!" She pushed herself up in her seat, using Finn's groin as leverage. As the boy crumpled into a ball on the couch, Rachel cried out, "It's time for Spin the Bottle!"

"**In wine, there is liveliness."**

: : :

**In Vino Virtus**

Ten minutes later, the crowd of fourteen was in a large circle around a wine cooler bottle on a chess board. Rachel announced officiously, "Remember, everyone! Kisses have to last for five seconds, and we'll be counting!" Kurt got the first spin. It landed on Lauren Zizes. Blaine found this hilarious. (He'd found practically everything that night hilarious, from Rachel's pink bedazzled microphone to his own name.) Lauren picked Kurt up like a doll, sat him in her lap, mashed her lips into his for five seconds while the crowd counted slowly, and then deposited him back onto the floor beside Blaine.

"Feeling a little bi?" Blaine asked.

"No," he grumbled.

Brittany laid her head on Kurt's shoulder. "Was she better than me?"

"Impossible," Santana mumbled, snaking her arm around Brittany's waist.

Kurt declared, "Just for that, Brittany's up next!"

Brittany's spin landed on Artie. Santana tried to protest, but Tina officiously announced that there is no "Ex Exclusion" in Spin the Bottle "according to the Geneva Convention." The kiss was dull and Brittany pulled away the instant everyone said _five_, frowning as she retreated to her spot between Santana and Kurt. "Santana, go," Brittany instructed.

Santana's spin landed on Sam. She scowled, but grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips into his. He felt the way she remembered him feeling, and she extended the kiss by another half second for one particular reason: to see Quinn scowling at her afterwards. She teased her friend, "Lips likes those, just like macking on a girl. Better hold on tight to him, Q. Puckerman, you're up!" Brittany was frowning at her, but Santana easily extinguished her foul mood by taking a seat in her lap, straddling her thighs, and wrapping a hand around her neck from behind.

Puck's spin stopped on Mike Chang. Immediately, there was a cacophony of hemming and hawing. Puck called out, "Wait a second."

"Nuh-uh. I kissed a girl!" Kurt proclaimed.

"I kissed a _boy_," Santana added, leaning to high-five Kurt. When she righted herself on Brittany's legs, she leaned back into the girl, just to hear her breath hitch.

Mercedes called out to Puck, "You gotta!"

"I'm gonna!" Puck yelled over the noise, "But I just want to establish two things. First, Cone of Secrecy. This ain't getting back to the football team."

Artie spoke with authority, "Party with underage drinking? Cone of Secrecy is _always_ in effect, dude."

"Secondarily, that the Same Gender Coersion Rule will remain in effect for the rest of the game. Do I hear a second?"

"Second!" Tina cried out.

"Good. That means I need all the girls to raise their right hands." All the girls did, Santana grabbing Brittany's hand so she raised the right one. Puck changed his mind, "No, everyone! Everyone raise their right hand!" The boys threw up their hands, too. "We're all gonna solemnly swear that no one will refuse any kiss based on gender. All say 'aye.'" He was met with a chorus of _aye_'s. "Good, now we need a penalty. Shaved head?"

He was met with universal refusal. "Totally not fair!" Sam screamed, covering his own shaggy hairdo with his hands.

Quinn piped in, "Cheerios had a default penalty of streaking for all party games."

"Agreed. Once around the house," Puck amended, "And so resolved. Get over here, Chang."

Puck grabbed Mike's face and laid a deep kiss on it, dutifully waiting for the crowd to count to five tortuously slowly. A loud smacking noise ended the embrace and Mike was thrown back into Tina's arms. The Asian girl seemed excited. "Did he slip you the tongue? Oh, that's so hot!"

Lauren was noticeably less enthused. "Eh, had my suspicions." She adjusted her glasses.

Mike shoved Tina forward for her turn and her spin landed on Blaine. They kissed for the requisite five seconds and would have continued longer had they not been pulled away by Mike and Kurt. Tina apologized insincerely with a grin on her face, capturing Mike's lips. "Sorry, he's super-mega-neato-crazy-gay and boys kissing boys is a total turn-on. You're still my man, Jackie Chan." She fell backwards onto the floor when she tried to lean back on him and miscalculated.

"Feeling a little bi?" Kurt echoed.

"A little," Blaine replied.

"Oh, Lordy." He mouthed to Tina, _How could you? _

_Oh please_, she mouthed back, brushing her fingers through Mike's hair, messing it up considerably.

Mike called out, "Rachel, your turn."

It landed on Quinn. They locked eyes. "You gonna chicken out, Berry?"

Rachel scowled and harrumphed. "Obviously not. This is my neighborhood and I don't want it getting back to my daddies that their little girl was running around the property in her birthday suit." So, she leaned across the circle. Her face scrunched up, Quinn met Rachel's lips halfway, kissing her close-lipped while the rest of the group counted even slower than they had for Puck and Mike. When she tried to pull away after five seconds, Rachel grabbed her face and mashed their lips together until Quinn was able to yank her hands off.

Quinn pulled away and wiped her face. Rachel just giggled, calling out, "Santana! You're totally onto something with kissing girls! Their lips are so soft!" She screamed at Quinn. "Your face tastes like a pumpkin!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Rachel, I have enough lesbians in my life."

Santana, who was currently peeling Brittany's vest off her shoulders so she could leave a trail of kisses there, kicked her foot out into Quinn's thigh.

Rachel cried out to her kissing partner, "Quinnie, we need to do a duet!"

Quinn considered it for a moment. "Fine, Chapstick, but if you suggest a t.A.T.u. song, I'm leaving right now."

Five minutes later, Rachel and Quinn were on stage near the twin microphones. "So, I'm Superstar Spice and this is…"

"Queen Spice," Quinn added.

"And we've got one request for you." She pressed started the music and without a second delay screamed into the mic, "_Yo, I'll tell you want, what I really really want!_"

Quinn replied back, "_So tell me what you want, what you really reall want!" _

"_I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want!_"

"_So tell me what you want, what you really really want!_"_  
_

In unison, all the girls in the room sang with them, "_I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really/really really wanna zigazig ha!_"

Rachel pointed to Santana, who was seated on the couch with Brittany. She sang, "_If you want my future, forget my past_."

Quinn singled out Tina on the dance floor, who was grooving with Mike. "_If you wanna get with me, better make it fast._"

"_Now don't go wasting my precious time_," Rachel sang.

"_Get your act together we could be just fine_," Quinn finished.

_I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want,  
So tell me what you want, what you really really want,  
I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really  
really really wanna zigazig ha_

Brittany corralled Santana and the other girls to the dance floor, even going as far to push Mike away from Tina. As the chorus began, she danced with the other girls watching and mimicking her the best they could.

_If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends  
Make it last forever, friendship never ends  
If you wanna be my lover, you have got to give  
Taking is too easy, but that's the way it is_

Rachel screamed out during a musical interlude. "Brittany, how do you remember a dance from a 15-year-old music video?"

"She's fierce!" Santana cried back, "She's Fierce Spice!" The girls cracked up. "And I'm Spicy Spice." She almost fell down with laughter. "That's silly. Make that Saucy Spice."

"I'm Domination Spice!" Zizes bellowed and the other girls gave her a wide berth.

"I'm Diva Spice!" Mercedes proclaimed.

"And I'm Vampiress Spice," Tina reasoned.

Rachel pressed a button on the laptop attached to her stereo system and the track looped back to the second verse. The girls continued where they left off.

Mike invaded the dance space again and performed a dance number. Kurt drug Blaine to do the same. "What's your Spice name?" he asked over the music.

"I don't know. How would you describe me?"

"Dapper," Kurt remarked, "You'd be Dapper Spice."

"I love that word! So, what are you?"

"I don't know. I'm fashionable?"

"Vogue Spice!" Blaine screamed, giggling.

"I can live with that!" Kurt replied, dancing closer to Blaine, who continued his spazzy dance.

Eventually the night wound down. Finn and Kurt transported most of the drunken teens home, leaving only Brittany and Santana at Rachel's place. Since neither was fit to drive, Rachel told them they could crash in her guest room, but they seemed happy on the couch. So, Rachel left the two there with Santana sobbing about her inability to unclasp Brittany's bra due to her fumbling fingers.

"**In wine, there is courage."**

: : :

**In Vino Venenum**

Brittany, Mercedes, Tina, and Mike were walking through the hallways, all wearing sunglasses.

"I've been pretending to take notes with an empty mechanical pencil because I know it will sound like a machine gun if I click it," Tina related.

"I've had a headache for so long I'm pretty sure that I got used to the pain and now my non-headache feels like a hangover," Mercedes noted.

"It hurt so much to move," Brittany related, "that I started letting my cat wash my hair like I'm a kitten. And I let my dog wash my face like it's her fun zone. The rest of my body got cleaned when the ghost who lives in our water heater turned the shower on while I was sleeping in the tub. Did I mention I moved into my bathroom?"

"I've been puking non-stop, and I told my mom I was bulimic," Tina explained.

"Don't say _puke_," Mercedes requested.

"She's worried, but it's not as bad as underage drinking to an Asian mother."

"That's true," Mike agreed. "I had to tell my folks that I got food poisoning by visiting a Thai restaurant. They locked me in the basement so I could pray while doing yoga. In case you were wondering, Dolphin Pose allows you to spew without resistance."

Brittany remarked, "I've lost six pounds. I don't know where it came from. Do I have a white girl's butt now?"

"Can we talk about anything else?" Mercedes begged.

Tina noticed something on Brittany's neck. "Brittany, do you have a hickey? Ooh, does somebody have a new man?"

"No," Brittany remarked sheepishly, covering the bruise with her hand.

"Oh, c'mon, girl, spill," Mercedes prodded.

"It's embarrassing."

"Oh, no," Tina realized, "tell me you and Artie didn't get back together. It was so hard on him last time." When Mike frowned at this, she replied, "Oh, please, Sweetie, it's not like that. Brittany and Artie's relationship near the end was really sad. I was afraid we were going to have to choose sides."

"It's not Artie, okay?"

Santana quickly joined the ranks. _Okay, so apparently, I've been slacking off on the whole use of foresight thing, because I probably could have prevented a ton of this. _"Sup, lushies."

Mercedes frowned. "Girl, how are you so upbeat? All of us can't feel our toes."

"Oh, Saturday was a bitch, so I stole some of my dad's higher quality pain killers. I'm pretty sure I haven't learned a thing today."

"Join the club," Mike moans.

"In other news, I'm pretty sure my thumb is broken." She wiggled it. "Nah, just a sprain."

"And you didn't think to bring some for the rest of us?" Mercedes asked.

"It's hospital-grade shit. Would I not be under threat of being arrested for possession with intent to distribute, I would have." She turned to Tina. "But if you want to suck my blood."

"It's too early for vampire jokes. And speaking of which, did someone else take you up on your offer, because your arms are _covered_ with bite marks." Santana just grinned. "Also, Brittany has a hickey, but she won't tell us from whom."

Santana grinned proudly, leaned in very close to Brittany, brushing her hair aside, and examined the bruise very closely. "Hmm, nice handiwork. I'm sure you've got a few to match in places we can't see. All we can tell is that the person had a lot of experience giving hickeys and they had perfect teeth." She showily chopped her teeth as Brittany, whose gulped.

"Great," she whispered.

Tina's, Mike's, and Mercedes's eyes all widened at the display.

Mercedes was the first to speak, only managing to say, "Oh."

Tina told Brittany, "Don't be embarrassed. We all knew you swung both ways. And alcohol just does that to a girl. Just ask Kurt's friend Blaine." Tina paused to lick her lips. "Or _Rachel_," she added.

Rachel, who appeared beside Tina, cried out, "Stop talking about me! I don't really like kissing girls. It's just like that Katie Perry song you love."

_It felt so wrong,  
It felt so right,_

_Don't mean I'm in love tonight_

"Don't sing," Mercedes growled, pressing a thumb into her temple, "how are you so perky?"

Rachel replied, "I'm naturally like this. Believe me, I feel like Evita upon her death bed, giving her final Broadcast to the people of Argentina."

"I will stab you with your own sheet music if you dare sing the song that inevitably goes with that death scene."

As they reached the corner, they found Puck pushing Artie's wheelchair, flanked by Quinn and Finn. Artie had a thermos full of Bloody Mary. "Hair of the dog that done bit yo' ass," he called it.

Santana's thoughts were: _Okay, so I know this is inevitably going to lead to in-school drunkenness and not two minutes ago I was lamenting the fact that I didn't prevent __**this **__hangover, but __**this**__ bout of inebriation did lead to that little hug with Brittany. Is that trade-off worth it? Problably not. Then again, I can just…_

_Blame it on the Goose, got you feeling loose  
Blame it on the 'Tron, got you in the zone  
Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a alcohol  
Blame it on the a-a a-a-a a-a-a a-alcohol_

_Plus_, she figured, _I have a pretty epic solo on this song._

_And to my independent mamas who can buy their own bottles  
If you're looking like a model when them broke fellas holla_

_And I do that epic hip thrust on "looking like a model". Can you blame me?_

Mr. Schue apparently could blame them, saying the song glorified alcohol use when the whole point of the song seemed to be all about the bad choices made on alcohol. Rachel spewed her monologue about how there weren't any dangers to alcohol, as if they all hadn't spent the entire weekend with pounding headaches and vomiting.

"Have I ever told you how great you are?" Rachel told Sam as she hung on him, her hand grazing his midsection. Quinn stumbled over, put a possessive hand around Sam's arm, and cleared her throat with disapproval. "I'm so sorry," Rachel told her, reaching over to feel Quinn's stomach. "Nice," she giggled, at which point Finn ran over and pulled Rachel away as Quinn did the same with a clearly confused Sam. Rachel leaned heavily on Finn, rubbing her hand on his stomach, "Aw, not too shabby." She nuzzled her face into his armpit.

Mr. Schue gave his talk about alcohol poisoning and Santana, without exactly knowing why, broke down again. She couldn't even claim she was acting. _Four hundred?_ Again she found herself in Brittany's arms.

"Where's Ms. Holliday?" Quinn asked.

"She's dealing with something else."

"**In wine, there is poison."**

: : :

**In Vino Victimas**

The next morning, Will, Holly, Shannon, and Emma were all seated in the counselor's office, sunglasses on as they nursed their hangovers.

"So, Will," Holly remarked, "when I told Emma we were going out to cheer her up, I didn't realize we were going to a bar."

"Thank you, by the way," Emma remarked sleepily, "It's exactly what I needed."

"I was exactly what you _didn't_ need." Will apologized, "I'm sorry. It was Shannon's idea."

"Don't blame me," Shannon Beiste remarked from the corner, "Everyone looked like they were having a good time. We made a pretty good… what that thing called when you got four people singing?"

"A quartet," Will answered.

"Hey, we're all adults here. Sure we went a teensy bit overboard, but no one did anything stupid. Like try to kiss me again."

Holly added, "Or proposition me with a threesome with your ex-girlfriend on your matrimonial bed with a particular roleplay in mind involving James Dean, a flight attendant, and a diner waitress."

"Is that why I dreamt about eating waffles on _American Bandstand_?"

"Funny, you probably should have been dreaming about being an eccentric billionaire at the Globe Theater."

"You're making this up."

"Only because it's funny to watch you squirm."

Beiste remarked, "Look, I gotta go tell Strando to make two coolers of Gator-Aid. One of them is for me."

Holly and Will turned to the desk, where Emma was snoring while her hand wiped off the drool from her desk.

Holly explained, "I'll take care of this. For real, this time."

"**In wine, there are victims."**

: : :

**In Vino Vomitus**

_Ain't got a care in the world, but got plenty of beer  
Ain't got no money in my pocket, but I'm already here_

Santana's dance moves were sharp, but somehow they didn't outshine Brittany's, even on Rachel's suicide concoction. _Well, first good thing about doing this sober, I get to watch Brittany dancing without the fog, and… Oh, Dear Lord…_

Brittany had somehow dropped to the ground, doing the splits and was _bouncing_ up and down. _I would so drag her off stage and have my way with her if not for… Wait for it…_

Brittany was spewing a purple-gray liquid on Rachel. Santana knew she could have prevented this just like she was preventing herself from throwing up, but it was Rachel's fault for distributing the suicide beverage. Plus, no one had heeded her warning about perhaps not ingesting anything that had bits of pickled lime rinds and carpet fuzz floating in it.

"Everyone drink responsibly," Brittany said to a dead-silent crowd as Santana dragged her off stage for a completely different reason.

"**In wine, there is vomiting." **

: : :

**In Vino Victoria**

Brittany felt the warm water from the shower cascade over her. Her mind was still a little big foggy from the disgusting mixture that had put her in this state. Suddenly, Santana, naked as she, was in the shower with her.

"I don't feel so good. Maybe we shouldn't."

"Oh, Sweetie, your breath smells like a dumpster. Our sweet lady kisses would be sour lady kisses. I'm just gonna get you cleaned up, since you haven't moved a muscle for the past eight minutes."

So Brittany let Santana wash her body, cleaning the excuse vomit off her face and out of her hair. She was in a half-asleep state the whole time. Once the shower was done, Santana exited first to grab some towels. Even though she could have handled the task herself, she allowed Santana to dry her off. It was just such a rare thing to see Santana so nurturing.

"My belly hurts," Brittany whined, "Worse than the time I tried to groom Charity with my tongue. Or that time I thought that carton of Twinkies was going to go bad. Or that time I tried to make a salad out of grass clippings, jelly beans, and yogurt. Or…"

Santana kissed the top of Brittany's head and shushed her. "I'll break into the nurse's station and bring you a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and a silly straw."

"You're a better doctor than your dad."

"Well, thank you, but frankly, when you get appendicitis and not just I-thought-the-raspberry-scented-hand-soap-was-a-smoothie-itis, I'm gonna put down the Pokémon letter opener you hand me and drive you to Allen County General. I'll even call ahead to make sure they have root beer lollipops."

"If I live through this," Brittany began, to Santana's giggles, "I'm going to take you to Breadstix every night and paintball every weekend for a whole month."

"Be still my heart," Santana replied playfully yet not jokingly. "I'm going to go get our extra clothes from our lockers. And a toothbrush." Brittany breathed into her hand and grimaced.

After Santana had left, Rachel popped out of a shower stall across the room, wrapped in a towel.

"Hi," Brittany greeted.

"Hi. Sorry, I don't think I was supposed to overhear that. Santana has been nicer as of late, but I didn't want to test that theory." When Brittany didn't say anything, she took a seat beside her. "That girl's crazy in love with you, you know? I know she won't say it, but not just anyone would clean throw-up off of a friend."

"I know. She's loved me for a long time. She's just been scared."

"And it's not like you're any good with hiding your feelings for her. So, can I ask why you and Santana aren't together, as in together-together?"

Brittany bowed her head. "I want to be."

"Are you afraid that Santana's going to say _no_? From what I gather, she's been chasing for a very long time. I can see it every time she looks at you. I suspect it's how I looked at Finn all last year."

"Like a stray dog at the back door?"

"I guess that's one way to put it." She paused. "Don't let her go, Brittany. I know this is the part where I'm supposed to say she's a real catch, but frankly, except for a few redeeming qualities she developed in the last few months, I'm not sure what she brings to the table. She's protective, I guess, in a Chihuahua-who-thinks-it's-a-Doberman kind of way."

"I think she's wonderful."

"Splendid for you then." The far-off sound of the locker door opening echoed through the room. "That's my cue." She scrambled off to a toilet stall, grabbing a bag on the way over.

Santana came in with a gym bag slung over both shoulders. "Okay, B, here ya go. I know you don't like the hot cinnamon toothpaste I use, so I borrowed some wintergreen flavor from Sam. Remember, spit, don't swallow."

"What are we going to do tonight?"

"Well, Figgins is probably going to yell at us tomorrow, so I figure we'd get a movie and throw back some cream sodas until your tummy feels better. I'll be on strictly cuddle duty tonight."

"You can pick the movie, Santana."

"Baby, you're the sick one."

"I know, but it's your turn to pick. Even if it's a scary movie about ghosts who walk on the ceiling." She trembled in her seat.

"That's quite thoughtful of you, but I actually intend to sleep tonight, and I can't do that if you don't, so maybe we'll split the different and get a nice action flick? Something with kung fu so there's no guns, okay?"

"Okay," Brittany agreed.

"**In wine, there is victory."**

: : :

**In Vino Vale**

Emma stepped out of the backseat of Holly's car and looked up the Windy Mills Rehabilitation Center.

Holly hopped out of the front seat. "It's a very good place, Emma. They won't name names, but a very high-profile lead singer of the Foo Fighters came here when he crashed his tour bus into a police station after a concert in Cleveland."

Emma just nodded, hugged Holly and then Will, and entered the facility.

"**In wine, there is a farewell."**

: : :

**In Vino Vilicos**

Principal Sylvester was away "on business", which meant she was in Indiana coaching a rival glee club, so it was up to Figgins to discipline the glee club. After realizing that they couldn't all fit in his "office", they moved to the principal's office.

They were saved from another tongue-lashing by Figgin's naiveté. But they still got one in glee from both their directors.

Holly added to the speech, "And, guys, I wasn't going to share this originally, but since my sex education program starts next week, I thought I'd give you a sneak preview. Alcohol can also lead to unwanted pregnancy." The glee club's collective jaws all dropped, except for Brittany, who clapped. "No, I'm not pregnant. But only because I've been on the pill for two years. You think this complexion is natural? Guys tend to conveniently forget that their Trojans are in the top drawer of their nightstands."

All eyes turned to Will, whose face was red as a cherry. Santana remarked, "Geez, and I thought we knew way too much about your sex life before."

Puck admitted, "She's not wrong. I've pulled the 'forget' the condom trick a hundred times. Except for that one tiny incident, I've been fine, but it is word to the wise."

In her seat, Quinn mouthed, _one tiny incident_.

Mr. Schue handed out the forms. Up at the top were both his and Ms. Holliday's cell phone numbers. Santana agreed to be the first to sign, and helped Brittany sign her own name, at times literally dragging her fuzzy-top pen to make the right loops in neon green glitter ink.

Ms. Holliday was the one to offer to bring the celebration beverage, and it wasn't sparkling cider.

"**In wine, there are stewards."**

: : :

**In Vino Venustas**

Santana, drenched in sweat, fell back onto her bed, huffing and puffing with exhaustion. _Okay, when Brittany said she was on the rebound, I didn't realize exactly how much bouncing she really intended to be in. _"You're one salacious vixen, B."

Brittany nuzzled into Santana's neck. "I like it when you use big words."

"Then I'm going to buy a thesaurus."

"They're extinct."

Santana threaded her fingers through Brittany hair. "Not even gonna bother with that. So, is this your way of cancelling out that little Breadstix-and-paintball debt you promised me? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I owe you four dinners after that."

"Five, but who's counting?"

"At this rate, I may have to end up paying for prom myself." Brittany pulled away and Santana cringed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know we're not there yet. I'm such a girl."

After a long time just staring at Santana, Brittany smiled, "That is very…" A kiss to the shoulder. "…very…" A kiss to the neck. "…super…" A kiss to the chin. "…true." A kiss to the lips. "Now, let's double check that girl thing."

Santana rolled her head back, resigned to her fate.

"You're perfect," Brittany stated.

"**In wine, there is beauty."**

* * *

A/N: The breakup flashback was completely unnecessary, even for word count goals. I just couldn't deprive you of it.

Also, I'm fluent enough in Spanish not to be surprised by this, but I wasn't aware exactly what "zorra" meant as a slang term of endearment. There's not a single meaning outside the literal translation that doesn't fit Santana to a T, but for some reason my brain actually thought it meant something like "foxy lady" or at worst "seductress."

I was the right age during the Second British Invasion. All my female peers were obviously obsessed with the Spice Girls, because it was the thing to do at that age. Anyway, it surprised me exactly how few of their songs I remembered. So, I went with the default choice of "Wannabe." If you're curious how the parts were broken up. Rachel was Melanie B ("Scary Spice") and Quinn was Geri ("Ginger Spice") because they were the leads on that song. Santana took over Melanie C ("Sporty Spice") and Tina Emma ("Baby Spice") for vocal reasons. That left Mercedes to sing what little Victoria ("Posh Spice") had for that song. This is obviously not the breakup most people would assign them, but it fit the story. Brittany took over the dancing and Lauren was there.

The Emma/Carl plotline had become a real plot tumor, so I'm eager to put that on the back burner, and I think some of you are ready for me to do that.


	18. Love Is a Battle

Doing It Right: Chapter 18  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. With the deadline looming, Santana must pull out all the stops.  
Spoilers: 2x15 "Sexy"

A/N: This is the penultimate chapter, meaning there's one more left. I tell you this because it's important and no one will remember by the end of the chapter.

* * *

Chapter 18: Love Is a Battle

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Santana and Brittany are totally back to friends-with-benefits, and even though Santana is totally dedicated to making Brittany her girl, she's enjoying those benefits. Rachel throws a party and everyone gets drunk and makes out during Spin-the-Bottle, then the girls get their Spice Girl on. Emma's drinking, too, but it's like sad drinking, so she goes to rehab. Figgins is back and he has New Directions do a number for Alcohol Awareness Week, but Brittany totally barfs on stage just like last time, but Santana's there to help her through it. She's gets some good advice from Rachel: "Don't let her go." Totally. And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

Rachel and Quinn were sitting across from each other in Mrs. Dooley's classroom, staring at one another.

"So, how are things with Sam?" Rachel finally asked.

"Great," Quinn replied, "And you and Finn?" Her voice cracked just a little.

"Excellent."

Another silence overtook the room which lasted until the door opened and Faith Jennings walked in. "Hi, is this the Celibacy Club?"

"Yes!" Rachel replied excitedly.

Quinn was mellower. "Yes, it is. Welcome. Please have a seat. I'm Quinn Fabray."

"Yeah, you're pretty well-known around here," remarked Faith.

"Have you heard of me?" Rachel wondered.

"Rachel Berry."

"Oh! I'm popular."

"I tried out for the glee club, and you put your picture on the top of all the sign-up sheets."

"Oh. Yes, I recall. You did a lovely rendition of Carrie Underwood 'Jesus, Take the Wheel'."

"Thank you." Faith took a seat and no one said anything for several seconds. "So, what exactly do we do in Celibacy Club?"

"I don't know. Ask Quinn, she's the expert in celibacy."

Quinn narrowed her eyes. "Oh, please, if anything, I have a reason to be celibate. I have experienced the consequences first hand. I don't flaunt my progressive attitudes about sex and then prove to be an enormous prude."

Rachel shot back, "Excuse me, I am not a prude. I'll have you know that I have a very healthy attitude about my sexuality. It's simply that a number of events have led me to repeatedly reconsider my views. Firstly, your pregnancy. And then my rush to show my love for Jesse, which backfired in a monumental and dramatic betrayal of trust. And I'm currently dealing with the fact that my boyfriend lied to me about losing his virginity to a hussy."

"So, do we _all_ have to air our dirty laundry?" Faith asked.

Quinn ignored Faith to snap back at Rachel. "Nice to know that your morals are so flexible that they can bounce back and forth with such frequency. You want to be the type of girl who thinks their first time will be something out of a romance novel? Fine. You want to be the type of who keeps a 30-pack of condoms in her purse? Great. But choose a side, because when you flip-flop, bad things happen." Subconsciously, Quinn's hand jumped to her stomach.

"Bad things happen when you deny what you truly want because you're obsessed with your image. Lauren Zizes tells me you already hired the A/V club to design your prom campaign posters. I hope they don't run out of yellow ink."

Faith looked shocked. "Oh, seriously, what's going on? Is your glee club some underground roastmasters group? Do you guys just make fun of each other all day?"

From her seat, Rachel mumbled, "Sometimes it seems that way."

"So, are you girls fighting over a guy or something? Because I thought you two both had boyfriends on the football team."

Quinn answered, "We do." She added matter-of-factly, "She stole her last one from me."

Rachel didn't let that slide. "Excuse me; you did not need _any_ of my help pushing him away. One drink and suddenly you'll open your legs to anybody."

"I had _feelings_ for Puck. Might I remind whose business _you_ got all up just last weekend when _you_ had a little to drink?"

Rachel jumped up from her chair. "That is not fair. That bottle pointed towards you. I didn't want to get naked and run around my house."

Faith's eyes were the size of saucers. "Am I being recruited into some kind of Ancient Greek debauchery cult? Because if you guy sit around and yell at each other and drink and have naked same-sex relations…"

"No," Quinn interrupted, long after Faith had trailed off, "you're right. Rachel and I just have a bit of… an uneasy history. Celibacy Club is for those who recognize that teenagers having an active sex life is risky and immoral."

Rachel volleyed, "No, it's about dogmatic repression of one's natural inclinations when it should be about teenagers making informed decisions about their social maturity when it comes to romantic relationships."

Faith spoke up, "Okay, I don't want to get in the middle of… whatever this is… but are there no boys in this club?"

Quinn turned her head. "You're using this club as a _dating service_? That's so… predatory. Now I know why you're friends with Santana."

"No! To either part. I'm hoping to meet some guys who might have a more conservative outlook on dating. I'm kind of… behind the curve."

"But you're so pretty," Rachel noted, more bewildered that complimentary.

Faith wasn't sure whether say _thank you_. "I'm from Utah. The school I went to before I moved here was ninety percent Mormon. The guys there believed kissing was something you did when the minister told you to kiss the bride. I was hoping there would be guys at this school who like to take it slow."

"Then you're out of luck," Rachel groaned, "There was only one guy at this school who didn't want to get in a girl's pants and he transferred out."

Quinn stated sympathetically, "I'm going to be straight with you. The way to get a guy to take it slow is not to give in."

Faith slumped in her seat. "So, dating is a battle? You try to hold the line while the guy attempts to gain ground?"

"Welcome to the real world, Salt Lake."

"That's disappointing."

Rachel asked, "Why? Do you have your eye on someone?"

A brief image of dark hair and golden skin popped into Faith's mind. "No," she replied too quickly.

Quinn giggled. "Liar. C'mon, spill. Let us taken ladies live vicariously through the single gal. Who is it?"

"No one," Faith insisted.

"Santana," Quinn said slowly, watching her closely. When Faith's eyes shot open, the blonde pointed at her. "Caught ya." She informed Rachel, "She likes Puck. Santana was going around trying to find Puck a new girlfriend… or a new hookup buddy, and I know you were one of her candidates." She conjectured, "You turned her down and now he's with Lauren Zizes, and you think you missed your chance."

Faith answered with intentional shyness, "It's just a silly crush, okay? Besides, totally not my type."

Quinn nodded. "I hear ya, sister. He's promiscuous and thinks he's a total badass and looks at virgins like they're prey. But he can also be really sweet."

"And he totally has a thing for blondes," Rachel added.

"I've heard," Faith replied distantly. "Are they together now?"

"Who?" Rachel asked, "Puck and Zizes? I think I lost the line of conversation when we started talking about blondes."

"No, it was me."

Rachel then gasped. "Wait, if the boys in Utah don't kiss, have you never…?"

"No, I have!" Faith defended, and then admitted, "But not until I came here. I went out with this guy, Daniel Creek, but we broke up after a week. No sparks. But, technically, my first kiss was some girl in a cheerleading outfit who kind of laid one on me at my locker out of the blue. She was carrying around a clipboard for some reason." Rachel and Quinn giggled for a long time after that. Silence filled the room again and Faith remarked, "Have you ever thought about inviting more people? This club might be more fun with a crowd. We wouldn't have to do anything. We could just... talk about things, like this."

Quinn teased, "Maybe we should invite people from glee club? Certain people?"

"Sure," Faith replied.

: : :

As Ms. Holliday started her lecture series on sex, complete with a cucumber and a condom. Santana wasn't listening. Health was the only class she actually had to pay attention in, since she only remembered Mrs. Pepino's half-baked lessons from the previous time. Ms. Holliday didn't do half-baked. Today, however, Santana was checking her day planner. Sure enough, it was March 7th, the day Ms. Holliday had started her sex ed lessons the first time, which meant that in four and a half days, she would be repeating the day she went back.

_So, how the hell does this work again? Let's say I reach the day that Brittany blows me off, the day I go weeping like a baby—a badass, awesome baby—to Ms. Holliday, who takes me to Dr. Whathisname. Do I get sent back? Or do I keep living until… until what? I swear to God he explained this to me, but that was five freakin' months ago. _

_I can't take that chance. I'm getting Brittany to agree to be with me by the end of the week. Sure, I'm finishing this by the skin of my teeth, but Santana Lopez gets shit done. She gets the girl. _

Santana turned to Brittany in the seat next to her. She seemed withdrawn, but that was a minor hurdle. Santana looped her fingers into Brittany's hand. It was one of the nice things about being left-handed; she could hold hands with Brittany while they both could take notes (or usually, just pretend to). After Finn's confusion about cucumbers spreading HIV, Brittany seemed to making a note: "No cucumbers in salad unless wearing condom."

: : :

Brittany seemed to avoid Santana for the rest of the day, but the Latina knew she wouldn't miss glee. When she walked into the choir room, the tension in the room was palpable. _Okay, what's this about and how can Batwoman fix it? _"Hey, what's going on?" she asked the club.

"Brittany's thinks she's pregnant," Tina remarked. She had her arms wrapped around the slouching girl, causing an unavoidable twinge of jealousy to shoot up Santana's spine. Even if she knew Tina wasn't interested in Brittany in _that_ way, it was still _her_ job to comfort Brittany. It seemed strange that she hadn't gone to her in the first place.

Brittany was insistent. "It's true. I have a bun in the oven."

At first Santana didn't react. _Oh, __**that**__. Okay, time to drop the facts on life on her. For now, gotta play along. _Santana widened her eyes and dropped her jaw. _I should become an actress. Gay actresses get all the best roles. _

Several feet away, Artie was zoned out. "My life is over." He rolled over to Brittany, and a real twinge of jealousy shot up Santana's spine this time. "I'll be there for you, Brittany. I promise." He shot a look to Santana, who didn't even bother scowling. The boy was in for a rude awakening.

Sweetly, Brittany replied, "Artie, that's really sweet, but I can't ask you to do that. The baby isn't yours."

"What?" Artie cried.

"What?" Santana echoed. _Hold it, who else is she getting her freak on with? And, more importantly when does she find the time? And more, more importantly, __**why**__? I should be wearing her out._

Brittany started bawling. "Santana, it's yours. I'm so sorry."

Relief flooded into Santana's chest. _Okay, let's just get this resolved then. _The rest of the club was too stunned to groan.

Artie explained, "Brittany, Santana can't get you pregnant. It has to be mine."

Brittany was unconvinced. "But…"

_This is going on too long. _Santana prompted, "Brittany, how can you know you're pregnant already? You haven't been showing _any_ signs. I would know. We're together day and night." This caught Artie's attention, as it was meant to.

And, to Santana's relief, Brittany told the story about the stork building a nest in her yard. Artie was at first relieved, then frustrated when he realized he'd lost his bargaining chip to get Brittany back. Sadly, he rolled back to designated spot. Santana walked over to Brittany, and without having to be asked Quinn moved up a row to give her room to sit by her best friend.

Quinn put her hand on Brittany's shoulder. "Brittany, you remember _me_ getting pregnant last year, with the wine cooler seduction and the growing stomach, right?"

"Yeah, your boobs and your ankles got bigger, too."

Quinn let that go. "There was no stork involved."

"You mean the stork didn't bring an itty bitty baby that you swallowed like a piece of gum? I thought babies maybe grew like those plastic toys that get bigger when you put them in water. They advertise them during _Woody Woodpecker_." She insisted, "Guys, it _has_ to be Santana's. The stork didn't start building its nest until Santana and I started getting our wet lady-hugs on again." She looked up to Ms. Holliday. "I wish you had done your sexy lessons last week. I would have made Santana put on a condom."

"On _what_?" Santana asked.

Mr. Schue and Ms. Holliday watched the proceedings with shock. "Will, I may have to do a mash-up."

"Of what songs?"

"Of 'The Ballad of Regionals Preparation' and 'Sex Education in B-Flat'."

_I guess that means a little "Do You Wanna Touch Me?" With the answer being "yes."_

: : :

At the previous GayLesbAll meeting, Rachel had implored all the members to attend the Chastity Club meetings. Since Kurt couldn't make it, "all the members" consisted of Finn, Santana, and Brittany. Santana wonder why she bothered when she and Quinn had given the same spiel to the glee club the day before, so they weren't reaching anybody new. _Leave it to Rachel to be thorough to the point of redundancy. _

Finn showed up at the meeting, of course, no doubt being dragged by his girlfriend. Sam had the same excuse for being there. Santana and Brittany were there, too, because Brittany insisted on attending. At first Santana was afraid she was going to lose her best tool for enamoring Brittany, but a brief conversation placated her fears.

"I wonder if we're going to meet Chastity this time."

"What?"

"Chastity. We were in the club all freshman year and in sophomore year until Quinn got knocked up by Puck's wine cooler, and we never got to meet her. Quinn was always so secretive about her, so I figure it must be a surprise about what she is. I bet she's a pony."

"In that case, there's only one way to find out. But you're still coming over tonight?"

This question seemed to perplex Brittany. "Of course. Can I bring something?"

Nine out of ten times, Brittany bringing "something" meant "something kinky". "As long as it's not Charity."

Needless to say, Santana was only too happy to become a hypocritical member of the Chastity Club. Quinn's sneer indicated her opinion about their presence, as if she was expecting Santana to go down on Brittany in the middle of the meeting just to spite her. Puck had publically refused the invitation, wrapping an arm around Zizes, which made Santana queasy. Tina had done so in private; she said she respected what the club represented, but it wouldn't be right for her and Mike to join since they had taken their relationship to that step, and they didn't belong.

To Santana's surprise, Artie didn't join, even when it became public knowledge that Brittany would be there. Mercedes did show up, self-deprecatingly pointing out that she had no choice but to be chaste. This saddened Brittany, and Santana knew it was only a matter of time before she would be expected to play matchmaker.

Faith Jennings also attended, and even though Santana was warned she'd be there, she was intrigued. Quinn had cryptically explained that Faith had something to tell her, so Santana swallowed her pride, and went over to make small talk. Her eyes kept flitting back to Brittany, whose side she'd left reluctantly; aware of how clingy she was being.

Santana folded her arms and flatly noted to the blonde, "Fabray says you had something to tell me." _We're skipping the small talk, if you didn't notice. _

Faith looked wholly confused and a little terrified, making Santana wonder exactly how scary she came off. Faith seemed to have an epiphany and told her, "She's under the impression I'm madly in love with Puck, and I don't know what she thinks I want to tell you. Either she thinks I want to thank you for offering me the opportunity to date him, or perhaps ask you to send him my way once he's on the market again." Santana was already tired of the conversation, but Faith kept rambling, "But you should know she's totally overemphasizing it. It's like a little crush. It's not like I go for bad… boys. It's just something new to me because I'm used to the squeaky clean type. Where I come from, _that_…" She moved her hand in a circle to indicate a hypothetical presence in front of her, but ended up gesturing at the girl she was talking to. "…is not allowed and I didn't even realize I was into _that_…" She repeated the gesture with both hands this time, cupping her hands in front of Santana's chest. "…until I got here and met you." She then stared at Santana for a very long time.

"So, we done?"

"Yeah," Faith replied, glad to be done with the conversation. Then she changed her mind, and grabbed Santana's arm. "Wait. No, one more thing." Solemnly, she explained, "I've had a lot of time to think. If there's something wrong with one of us, it's with me. No one should be ashamed of who they are. Maybe we can be friends now."

"Normally, I would tell you to go tell you to jump naked in a frozen pond." Faith shivered. "But I'm on this whole turn-a-new-leaf, be-nice-to-everyone kick, because of that one." She gestured over to Brittany, who was watching the couple closely.

"I think I know her from somewhere."

"Her name's Brittany. She's in glee and she's my best friend."

"She's not looking at you like a best friend," Faith noticed hollowly.

"That's what I'm banking on." Seeing Faith's conflicted face, she asked, "I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"

"No," she lied, "So, friends?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Sure, why not? But I'm still mad that you didn't join glee, though." She pointed her finger accusingly.

"Maybe next year. But until then, we've got this club," she noted hopefully, "Hopefully, my parents won't find out that the 'dirty lesbian'—their words, not mine—is in this club, and even if they do, they think a chaste lesbian is almost good as a regular person—again, their words, not mine."

Santana was still looking in Brittany's direction. "Then let's hope they don't find out I'm a devout, practicing one. Anyway, I'm going to mingle. We should do this again sometime."

The moment Santana stomped away, Mercedes snuck up to Faith. "I wanted to come say _hi_, and I was waiting for Satan to leave." Faith smiled and started chatting with the girl.

"Who was that?" Brittany asked jealously when Santana returned to her side.

"Faith. You remember her. I invited her to try out for glee and she did the country song. She couldn't join because her folks are total gay-bashers. But it turns out she's pretty cool, and she wanted to be friends with me."

"Friends like we are?" Brittany muttered.

Santana laughed at that. "Absolutely not. Being a total out lesbian means my gaydar is spectacular. Nah, she totally wants Puck."

"Really?"

Santana shrugged her shoulders. "Mmm, maybe not, but she believed the stupid rumor about me, so it's only fair that we spread it indiscriminately." Seeing Brittany pouting, she wrapped her arms around her neck, stating, "Wipe that jealous look off you face. I'm flattered, really. Besides, she's a complete V-carder, and why would I waste time training a new recruit when I already got someone who knows _all_ the right moves?" She sidled her body up closer to Brittany's.

A loud whistle screamed through the room. Of course, it came from Rachel, who pointed at the pair. "Celibacy Club is a strict below-the-wrist zone."

"I'll show you what I can do with my below-the-wrist," Santana called back, wiggling her fingers suggestively, but detangled herself from Brittany all the same. She whispered to Brittany, "Tonight." And that was all she needed to say.

"Point of order," Quinn cried out, "we do have one item on the agenda today. As much as Rachel and I appreciate Ms. Holliday's _progressive_ views on teen sexuality, I do believe that she is overstepping her bounds. While it is foolish to believe that you can keep a large body of teenagers from engaging in premarital relationship, it's also pessimistic to assume we're nothing more than a bunch of animals that can't control our urges. Let's give our demographic some credit. Plenty of young people can and do abstain until adulthood."

"Yeah, uggos," Santana joked.

Rachel pointed out, "People with low self-esteem are _more_ likely to engage in sexual activity, if only to validate their self-worth. Are you volunteering to share your experiences to demonstrate this phenomenon?"

"Britts, can I have permission to punch her? She's being mean to me."

Quinn jumped in, "You know, there are studies that show that closeted teen homosexuals have a higher incidence of pregnancy because they deliberately engage in risky heterosexual relations to prove to themselves and to others that they're straight. Why does that sound familiar?"

Santana attacked the gaping hole in her argument. "Because it involves teen pregnancy. Is this your way of coming out, Quinn? Welcome to fold." She tilted her head and smiled sweetly. Her eyes fell on Rachel, "Oh my gosh, with the president of the GayLesbAll? That explains why you too were the only two members for so long. Spin-the-Bottle claims two more victims."

"Santana, please, that's enough," Rachel groaned.

"You're right. I'm out of material. You were saying, Q?"

Quinn glowered, but put on her fake smile to announced, "We would like to do a song that celebrates the innocent pleasures of life, as a kind of counterargument to Ms. Holliday's inappropriately mature lesson plans which have even begun to permeate our glee club meetings."

_Yeah, I'm not letting this opportunity go._ "We should sing 'Afternoon Delight'. It's about having dessert in the middle of the afternoon," Santana noted matter-of-factly.

While the rest of the club discussed this idea, Santana slowly dragged Brittany towards the door, and whispered, "Changed my mind about waiting till tonight."

_Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight  
Gonna grab some Afternoon Delight  
My motto's always been "When it's right, it's right."  
Why wait until the middle of a cold, dark night? _

: : :

Santana and Brittany were cuddling on the bed, Santana on top, but pulled away when she noticed a lack of enthusiasm from Brittany. "Britt-Britt, your cuddle skills are kind of weak tonight."

"I'm sorry, Santana, I just still feel kind of dumb because of what happened in glee club. Everyone thinks I'm even dumber than Finn now."

"Brittany, you got confused about one thing. You get confused about breakfast sometimes."

"There are too many cereals. They have their own _aisle_ at the grocery store. It's right next to the pet food aisle, which was really bad planning for two foods that look the same and both have animals on the front."

"You and I are some of the most well-informed girls about sex at school. We can ask Ms. H to let us help her with her lesson. We can totally explain all about all the different contraceptives and sexual positions we're familiar with. We can even volunteer to demonstrate."

Brittany sat up quickly, rolling Santana off and rubbing her bare legs. _Just because we're just cuddling doesn't mean we have to keep our pants on_, Santana had told her. Santana put a hand on her shoulder. "Brittany?"

"I thought we weren't going to do that. Make out in front of everyone for show."

Santana laughed. "Oh, gosh, no, no, no. It wouldn't be like when we showed off for the football idiots. We'd just be offering to be a living visual aid for Ms. Holliday, like sexy mannequins. All our clothes would stay on."

"Won't everyone wonder why we're not embarrassed to do it?"

"Sweetie, no one's gonna wonder. We got drunk last weekend and we were all up in each other's business in front of everyone. I'm pretty sure everyone knows we're 'comfortable' around each other."

Brittany paused thoughtfully. "What are we… to each other?"

"That's kind of a loaded question." Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany. "We are two gorgeous babes who are totally into each other. And one of us is just waiting for the one who broke up with her boyfriend _ages_ ago to decide it's time to move on."

Brittany pulled away. "I'm scared. I don't know how to do this. I mean, I like you and I know you like me…"

_Try "love", love. Since when are you afraid of feelings? _

"…I just don't know how any of this works."

_Well, I guess the tables have turned. _

"I have an idea. Ms. Holliday obviously the expert in all things sexy. Maybe you'd feel better if we talked to her about our feelings? Maybe she can help us be less confused?"

: : :

Kurt thought he might be imagining things when he saw Karofsky in the main foyer at Dalton Academy. Then he wished he was imagining things when Karofsky didn't turn out to be a mirage. He sent a quick text to Blaine to join him and stomped down to the bottom of the stairs on borrowed courage. "What are you doing here, Neanderthal? This is a no-bullying zone."

Karofsky flatly noted, "You're stepmom's not ugly."

Kurt was flabbergasted. "What?"

"The lady your dad married, Hudson's mom? She's not ugly."

Kurt pressed, "Why are you here, Karofsky?"

"Your glee club replaced you with Lauren Zizes."

"I know. I hang out with my former glee-mates all the time. I _live_ with Finn."

"But you're a better singer than her. You have a lady voice and she doesn't. It's funny."

"It's not that funny."

"She sang some techno song for her tryout."

This revealed an interesting tidbit. "You were there? No one told me you auditioned."

"No. I went. I… maybe I thought about it. To get on Sylvester and Beiste's good side," he added quickly. "But I chickened out. It'd be like walking into the lion's den. Who does that?"

"I joined football last year as the kicker."

"I was still on hockey then. But I think I remember hearing about that. You're braver than me. That's why I'm surprised you haven't come back. The football team's been laying off the glee nerds since the championship game."

"I'm not afraid of the football _team_."

Karofsky's familiar growl finally came out. "I _told_ you I wasn't gonna mess with you. You're the idiot who kept poking me about some shit like I _wanted_ to join the fruity club."

"Why are you denying _everything_ about yourself?"

"Because that's the world we live in, Kurt! There are _rules_. Boys don't wear pink or dresses. Girls don't become football players or President. You grow up to be just like your dad and you don't leave Lima. No one _escapes_ Ohio; they get kicked out for sticking out. That's how it works."

"Be the change you see in the world," Kurt quoted.

"You sound like a bad motivational poster."

"That was Ghandi."

"Is he some kind of gay rapper or something?"

"I'm just saying your life would be easier if you defied the norms."

"Stop trying to help me! This isn't about me, okay? You should come back to McKinley."

"So you can push me into lockers more?"

"Why would I do that? I'll get _expelled_. I have nothing to gain and everything to lose from you coming back. You, on the other hand, can go to your silly choir competition if you're at McKinley and in glee again."

Blaine came racing down the stairs, putting himself in front of Karofsky, puffing up his chest. "You can't be here!"

"I've got a visitor's badge." He pointed to the hanging identification on his jacket.

"This is a safe place."

"I haven't hurt him. I haven't even touched him. I haven't even said anything mean. We were just having a nice conversation."

"Kurt?" Blaine check, keeping his eyes on Karofsky.

"It's fine, Blaine. We were done talking anyway."

"Nice boyfriend," Karofsky teased, "Did he come in a box with his own accessories?" He walked off.

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. He was just… I don't know… here." He looked up lovingly. "I feel kind of honored that you came to my rescue."

Blaine blushed. "I… care about you, okay? No one should have to go through that."

"You probably shouldn't have tried to take him on yourself. He's bigger than both of us put together."

"C'mon, Kurt, give me some credit." He pointed up to the top of the stairs, where all the Warblers were standing. Kurt waved at his teammates.

Up at the top of the balcony, David whispered to Wes, "Are they still dancing around each other?"

"Looks like it," Wes replied sadly, "Are we going to have to give him _another_ sexy song to sing lead on so that he can flirt with Kurt some more?"

"Wouldn't hurt. I could call Chloe and get her to bring the Starlings over. She's been having Laurel bug me about letting them do a show for us, because Regionals is coming up. We could return the favor. I know you and Miranda haven't had any time alone in a while."

"Make the call." He turned back to the Warblers and announced, "Brainstorming session in the lounge in five."

: : :

"Why are we sitting on the floor?" Brittany asked Ms. Holliday.

"'Cause we're in Japan. No. Welcome to my Sacred Sexy Sharing Circle. I want to thank you guys for confiding in me, 'cause I know this is tough. And I want to ask if either one of you thinks you might be a lesbian."

Santana just raised her hand. "I mean, it's no secret that I call myself one."

"That's an interesting way to phrase it."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. What _do_ I mean? Are you a lesbian or aren't you?"

Santana stumbled over her words. "I used to sleep with guys, and it didn't suck, but it was always better with girls—and my showerhead, which I still have some confusing feelings about. So, sure I still think Julian McMahon is hot, but I could never _love_ him. I don't know if I could ever love a guy and I've been with all types. I'm sure it's more complicated than me being just gay, but _lesbian_'s just the easiest way of saying it, especially to _them_." She pointed to the door.

"That's very true. Sexual orientation is complicated and messy and the words we use usually only fit the majority of people. But we live in a time when it's becoming okay not to fit in the boxes."

Brittany looked down. "I don't fit in a box anymore. My legs are too long."

Santana rubbed Brittany's long legs. "I like me those long legs."

Brittany turned away. "Santana."

Santana turned back to Ms. Holliday. "That's why I wanted to talk to you today. I'm ready to date a girl openly and I always thought Brittany would be, too. She's always seemed to want it from me, but she's reluctant now, and I can't get her to tell me why."

"Well, Sweet Cheeks, may I remind you that you're out to the whole school and have been for a while now. Brittany still has the benefit of being seen as just experimenting. I went to an all-girls school and I would have _loved_ to have been as willing to explore my sexuality as you two are at your age, but I suspect that Brittany have some reservations."

"Like at a restaurant?" Brittany wondered.

Santana took Brittany's hand. "No, she wants to know if you're scared of what everyone else will think about you if you date another girl."

"That's not what I'm scared of. I'm scared of feelings."

"Your feelings for me?"

"Yeah. I have _tons_ of different feelings and a lot of them are confusing. But it's _your_ feelings that I'm worried about."

Santana looked like she'd been kicked in the stomach. "What do you mean? I…" _Don't say 'love'; it's too risky. _"…want to be with you."

"_Now_ you do."

"No, I have for a long time, now I'm _ready_. Sweetie, I had to deal with some things first. Some really scary things. And I know I was dumb and didn't talk to you about it at first, but I'll talk about it now. Just tell me what you're afraid of. Or Ms. Holliday. We care a lot."

"Mm-hmm," Ms. Holliday confirmed.

"It's hard to explain," Brittany stated.

Mrs. Holliday was watching them closely. She finally jumped in, "Well, I think there's a tradition with you kids when you have feelings you're having trouble expressing."

"Slushying somebody?" Brittany wondered.

Santana grabbed Brittany's hand. "She means singing a song, B. Maybe there's a song that will help you express how you feel?"

Brittany bopped her head. "Yeah, there's one that I used to listen to a lot last year that made me feel better about us. Will you two sing it with me? I'm afraid I might freak out if I try to do it alone."

"Anything for you," Santana replied.

Ms. Holliday agreed, "I thought you'd never ask. And I have a favor to ask from you. Do you guys know how to tango?"

Brittany replied immediately, "My parents are part owners of a dance studio because it was cheaper than enrolling me in all the classes I wanted to take. You're gonna have to show me a video of which one it is because until this moment I thought tango was a fruit. Or perhaps a body part that sound sounds dirty but is actually that bump on your ankle."

Santana answered, "C'mon, did you think I was Arab? I have thirty-five cousins. Five of them have gotten married this year alone."

: : :

The next day in glee, Brittany and Santana found themselves demonstrating how to do the tango for their glee teammates while Mr. Schue sang a Prince song sounding like a chipmunk while dancing with Ms. Holliday. The first part was fun; Santana got to hang all over Brittany doing a dance that was pure sex. The second part was not, as it involved dancing with people who were not Brittany. Even though Holly had to suffer through Finn's fumbling feet, she did end up having to teach the equal double-left-footed Sam. Watching Brittany grind all over a clearly traumatized Quinn made up for it. Then she danced with Mike, and jealousy curled in her stomach when they performed an elaborate routine on the fly.

After the dance practice, Rachel asked, "Mr. Schue, are we planning to do this for Regionals?"

"Maybe. We don't need this number in particular, but it would be a nice addition. It's a classic song and a little tango might wow the judges."

"Not to mention it's _crazy_ sexy," Ms. Holliday added.

"It's just," Rachel noted, "there are seven girls and five boys."

"I'll dance with Britt," Santana offered, "Problem solved."

"It might actually be more prudent to split up our expert dancers," Mr. Schue suggested. Tina and Mike pouted at each other.

_Cockblock._ Seeing Artie's eyes jump to Brittany, Santana reacted quickly, "Then I'll take Artie." Unsurprisingly, all heads turned to her, she pointed out, "He's got no legs and less raw sexuality. Who better than me to cover that up?"

"Than a lesbian?" Quinn appended.

Even though the one kiss and one dance was far more interaction than she ever expected to spend with her alternate-timeline boyfriend, she took one for the cause. She took a seat in Sam's lap, sashayed her hair, and trailed a finger down his jaw. "Hey, Hot Stuff, I bet those lips of yours could absolutely _ravish_ a girl." She leaned in and hovered her lips a centimeter from his before getting up. Sam shook off the experience and Quinn found herself with too many people to direct her anger at. "The prosecution rests."

Puck spoke up, "So, who's gonna sing that song? 'Cause it ain't gonna be me. I have no interest in sounding like Mickey Mouse after he takes a baseball to the junk."

"We lost our good falsetto," Finn pointed out.

Puck added, "There's only one way my voice is going that high and that's cutting off Isaac and Jacob." When he got a few scandalized looks, he replied, "I named them after Ike Davis and Jackie Fields. What did you think?"

Mr. Schue groaned. "We'll discuss this later. I believe Brittany has a song for us."

Santana, Holly, and Brittany assembled themselves on three stools at the front of the room, Holly with a guitar. Beside Santana was Puck with his own guitar, and to the side, by Brittany, was Finn on the drum set.

Puck started strumming repetitive chords, and was soon joined by Holly with the melody, and finally Finn on the drums. Holly sang:

_She's taking time making up the reasons  
To justify all the hurt inside  
Guess she knows from the smiles and the look in their eyes  
Everyone's got a theory about the bitter one  
They're saying  
_

Santana and Brittany joined her:

"_Mama never loved her much"  
And "Daddy never keeps in touch,  
That's why she shies away from human affection"  
But somewhere in a private place  
She packs her bags for outer space  
And now she's waiting for the right kind of pilot to come  
And she'll say to him  
She's sayin'_

I would fly to the moon and back if you'll be...  
If you'll be my baby  
I've got a ticket for a world where we, we belong  
So would you be my baby?

The song continued, with Mrs. Holliday allowing Brittany and Santana to sing lead more and more as the song progressed. By the end, both girls had tears in their eyes. The glee club was equally entranced, especially Will as he watched Holly intently.

When the song was over, no one had enough courage to speak first, until Santana did. "I'm sorry, Brittany," she said without looking towards her. Brittany's head jerked to the right, looking at Santana, obviously not expecting that response.

Santana's eyes stayed at the middle distance. "I never knew how much I made you feel like that. I should have imagined, but I didn't." Her eyes finally met Brittany's. "But I'm still like that, a little bit, maybe a lot. I just…" She beckoned Brittany closer with her eyes. _I came to you, now you come to me._

Brittany walked over and stood in front of her. Santana, meeting her halfway, got up, too, and they embraced in a tight hug. She looked out in the audience. Puck winked at her. Mr. Schue's eyes were locked on where Holly was sitting. Quinn had a slight, knowing smile. Rachel was shaking in her seat, barely restraining her desire to applaud. Even though her mind should have been on something else, Santana was praying for her to keep her mouth shut. She prayed about the wrong person.

Artie scoffed. "I don't get it, Brittany."

Brittany tensed, pulling out of the hug, but Santana grabbed her hand to stabilize her.

Despite the glares he was getting, he continued accusingly, "What did she do? What did she tell you?"

Holly sent a panicked look to Will, who commented, "Artie, I don't think this is the place for—"

Artie wasn't listening. "We were doing fine. We _worked_. If things broke down, that would have been fine. But it's pretty clear to me that it had _everything_ to do with _her_. I'm sorry, but I have a right to be angry. She stole you from me. She _admits_ she's a bitch. She _admits_ she hates talking about feelings. She _knows_ what she's dragging you into. How can she claim to love you? Has she?"

Brittany's hand was gripping Santana's tightly now. She whimpered, "I'm sorry, Artie. I don't want you to be mad at me." She searched for words for several more seconds before suddenly yanking her hand away and racing out of the room.

Santana ran up to Artie. "What is wrong with you?"

Will got up from his seat, but Holly held her hand up, gesturing for him to stop.

Santana continued, putting her hands on the armrests of Artie's wheelchair, "You got dumped. You are only the fifty billionth person that that's happened to. She chose me because I have been working to be the kind of person she deserves. You remember what my first good deed was? It was making sure _you_ didn't screw up Mike and Tina's love. And I damn sure not gonna let you tell her that I don't love her more than anything."

She noticed that everyone in the room had perked up at that confession. Santana chuckled to herself, pulling away from Artie. _I used "Landslide" to show my love to Brittany and now I've done it again, explicitly. It's appropriate. _ She ran to the door, looking for Brittany, but she was out of sight. No footsteps echoed through the hallways to give away her position.

Santana pulled out her cell phone and checked the date. _Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours and I might screw it up when I'm a hair's breadth away. No, no more holding back. I'm Santana Lopez. I'm gonna get the girl. _

: : :

Will and Holly were seated at a couch in a plush living area, next to a loveseat that Emma was curled up in.

"I'm surprise they let me sit in the same room with people."

Will told her, "This isn't a prison, Emma."

"How's the drinking thing going?" Holly asked.

Emma waved that off. "Oh, I'm totally off that. It turns out I wasn't an alcoholic."

Will gestured to the room. "But you're still here."

"I've been seeing a therapist. We're working on my anxiety issues."

Holly carefully ventured, "Have you seen Carl?"

"Yes, he came in for a session with me."

"Are you two going to be okay?"

"Maybe. I think so. I don't know. I want to. And Carl does, too. But it's an uphill battle."

Will gracefully changed the subject. "What happens now? How much longer do you have to stay?"

"Not much longer. I'll be released and I can return to McKinley. I have a psychiatrist that I'll be going to twice a week."

"Good," Holly replied. "About the coming back to school thing. Principal Figgins has it in his head that I'm still a substitute, so he's appointed me the interim counselor. I've had to resort to counseling students about their pregnancies while using them as examples in my class. One girl's about ready to pop, so I'm afraid one of my classes might get an extra special lesson next week. Everyone in that class might be getting A's on their finals."

"Henri's here," Emma explained.

"Oh, how is he?"

"Better. I like to have conversations with him because he never coughs. We don't get to talk much because he helps out in the infirmary and he's always so sleepy after his shifts. They must work him to death."

: : :

Sue Sylvester sat at her desk in the principal's office, reading a document. It was several pages long, bound in a laminated cover. She showed almost no emotion as she read through it, nodding every once in a while. When she was done, she put the folder down and looked up at the boy sitting in the chair across from her. "Well, Kurt this is very thorough and uses many words far longer than necessary. Parts of it are obvious hyperbole. I find it to be very satisfactory."

Kurt held his hands over his folded legs. "Where do we go from here?"

"Well, I'll obviously be having a chat with Mr. Karofsky about his little unannounced visit to your school. In the end, I think everyone will be getting what they deserve. You'll have your answer within twenty-four hours."

"Thank you."

"I wouldn't. I enjoy making people wait, so you probably won't be hearing from me until exactly…" she looked at her watch, "…four o' nine PM tomorrow afternoon. I assure you this matter will be resolved."

"I await your call."

"One more thing, Gelfling."

"Principal Sylvester?"

"We miss you."

Kurt knew better than to respond, so he saluted and walked out the door.

Sue dialed a number on her phone. "Hello, Becky, how are you enjoying your office? You haven't touched my trophies, have you? Don't lie to me; I was trained by the CIA and then countertrained by Mossad. Anyway, I need you to get the box of 'supplies' from the secret compartment on my desk. Yes, bring it to me right away. We have preparations to make."

: : :

The last thing Santana needed was for Brittany to avoid her all day. It started with Tina calling and telling her she was going to drive Brittany to school today. Santana couldn't catch her at her locker all throughout the school day, making her wonder if Brittany was going prepared to her classes. She'd skipped Spanish and Health, and when she asked Mr. Schue about it, he claimed he and Ms. Holliday allowed her to switch periods for the day, even though Mr. Schue taught the advanced AP class the period they usually had Health.

But, after the last bell of the day, Santana was waiting across the hall from their lockers.

"Hello," she was greeted by a familiar voice.

Santana looked up and found Faith staring at her. "Hey, Underwood, is this your locker? Sorry, I'm using it as a lookout."

"What are you looking out for?"

"Brittany."

"Of course," she replied, hiding any ache in her voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just because I used to be undecided about it doesn't mean I don't know what it looks like. It's actually why I hopped off the fence. The way you look at Brittany, it's no different than the way girls look at guys they like. Love is love."

"Profound," Santana noted dismissively.

"Didn't mean for it to be."

The conversation died when Brittany arrived at her locker from the opposite direction to pick up her things. Without saying good-bye. Santana pounced. "Brittany."

Brittany tried to act surprised. "Santana! Hi!"

"I haven't seen you today."

"That's weird," Brittany lied badly.

"So, I wanted to thank you for singing that song for me in glee club. It meant a lot."

"You're welcome. It helped me explain how I feel."

"I understand. But you know I'm not like that anymore. I don't want to hide on the moon anymore."

"I know."

"Listen, B, you can't listen to Artie. He's not being fair. You're free to date whoever you want, especially if that's me."

"Artie's dumb," Brittany replied, "He's dumb and mad and he was a total tool to me. And you."

"Yeah, he was. Look, I promised you I wasn't going to hide my feelings anymore, so here it goes: I want you," she noted intensely. "I want you so bad. I want to go out on dates with you, and worry about what I'm going to wear like a total _girl_. I want to be your girlfriend and do that sissy little _squee_ noise every time I say it. I want to put my arms around you and kiss you… and not care if it's in front of _everybody_. I want to go to dances together, looking like the two hottest bitches in school that we both know we are, and make all the boys jealous that they can't have us. I want to sing stupid love songs to you in glee and _mean_ them, like I was Rachel Berry. I want us to be Santana and Brittany, together forever."

As if it were nothing of consequence, Brittany stated, "I know all that, Santana."

Santana sighed with frustration. "Do… you… want that, too?"

"Of course I do, Santana. I've wanted that ever since I met you and I never thought I'd ever get that."

"Then what are we waiting for? This is the moment." _You have no idea. How much longer do I have? Minutes? Seconds? _

"I'm scared, Santana. All that bad stuff happened to you when you came out."

"Is that what you're worried about? Brittany, you're talking to the badassest chick at this school. We'll take on all the idiots together. I'll protect you."

"You don't get it, Santana! I know you can protect me; you always have. I just don't want you to go through all that crap again now that everyone is finally leaving you alone. I can't protect _you_. I'm a coward and I don't deserve you! You're strong enough; I'm not."

"Are you kidding me? I was the coward. You used to walk through these halls without giving a shit if anyone knew you like girls. I'm brave because you showed me how to be. I'm brave because of you. For you."

"So I'm stupid to be so scared?" Brittany asked hopefully.

"No. It's just like _The Lion King_. Being brave isn't about not being scared of anything. It's about kicking fear's ass. I'm terrified of being with you, too, and not because of the looks and the talks. But because I _suck _at being in a relationship. I mean, I've been trying for the past five months, and I obviously failed because I never had you."

Brittany shook her head. "You're wrong. It was everything I ever wanted, just because it was you. And it hurt losing you."

"Brittany, I get it; I already lost you once. And that's why I can't do it again." _And I don't just mean losing you to Artie this time._ "You are the best thing that ever happened to me! You're my best friend. You're the reason I came out. Practically everything I've done during the last few months is for you. I'm doing that because I want to deserve _you_. I don't just want to be your girlfriend. I want to go to prom to you. I want us to be one of those stupid couples that decide to go to the same college. I actually want to imagine stupid babies that look like both of us even though that's not scientifically possible. Just trust me on. But I'm not asking you promise me the rest of your life. All I need is for you to tell me that one thing we both know I'm too chicken to tell you."

For once, Brittany knew exactly what she meant. She leaned down and pressed her lips to Santana's and whispered, "I think I love you."

"I _know_ I love you," Santana replied, as a feeling rose up in her chest that felt like waking from a dream to a beautiful sunny morning.

: : :

Santana woke up in her bed as sunlight streamed in from her window. Her head ached like she'd been asleep for a week straight.

"Did I jump again?" she whispered to herself, looking around her room. The other side of the bed was empty. She grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand. _March 11, 2011. The day after I went back. _

There was a note sitting where her phone was. In loopy handwriting was written:

_Sweet Cheeks,_

_You were pretty out of it, so I brought you home. Hope you don't catch any flack with your folks. Good luck with Brittany. I'll see you in class and at glee today. _

_Keep it real, _

_HH_

Santana folded the note and threw it back on the nightstand. _I'm back. _ She threw off the covers and headed to the closet to get dressed. She had a full day ahead of her; it was the first day of the rest of her life. She got a text from Rachel reminding her of the glee early morning rehearsal, and another from Tina saying she was taking Brittany to school.

The drive to school was quiet and the parking lot mostly empty. The football players and Cheerios still got first dibs on parking spots thanks to Sue's machinations due to the almost sane justification that they arrived early anyway for practices. Santana got a decent spot in the second row and made her way to her locker. She didn't see Brittany there, but that was just as well. Without deadlines looming above her, she had plenty of time to make Brittany hers all over again. A small part of her was actually looking forward the opportunity.

_Except for the heartache_, she thought as she looked into the choir room. Unsurprisingly, Rachel was there already, without Finn. Mike and Tina were in one corner, practicing dance moves. Artie and Brittany were talking animatedly. Sam was sitting near the right side of the room, so his eyes fell on her almost immediately and he waved to her.

_Step one…_

She walked straight up to him and asked, "Hey, Sam, can we talk for a minute?"

He nodded and they made their way into the hallway.

* * *

A/N: So, in a roundabout way, the "zorra" nickname and Santana's use of the Batwoman the Lesbian Superheroine moniker kind of came together. Because, what fictional character is Batman based on? That's right: Zorro.

I hope you all realize that I personally don't find Julian McMahon the pinnacle of male sexiness. I was merely going for the easy _Nip/Tuck_ reference, along with the kind of anachronistic crushes that these characters seem to have because of the writers not doing their research.

I encourage you to go read the lyrics to "To the Moon & Back" by Savage Garden. I didn't want to bore you with them on page, but it's a great song, and I have to thank **fangirly-joy** on LiveJournal for the fanmix that included this song. Savage Garden is one of my favorite bands (and I think this was the only song in the entire series that I actually have in my music collection; the rest I browsed for), but she's the one who related it to Brittana. Also, the Will-Holly parallels? Totally did not pop up until I was writing the scene. I just remembered how Will was looking at Holly and thought to myself, "Does that still fit?" Holy crap, it _does_.

The Faith character kind of grew on me, and now I'm not sure what to do with her.

Also, I should have said this a while ago. Thank you so much for all the reviews. At the time of writing, this has been favorited 47 times with 117 people on Story Alert, which is double any other story I've done. I'm honored.

I'm really glad the last chapter in the next one, because I'm really running on fumes.


	19. That You Never Stop Fighting

Doing It Right: Chapter 19  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can't help but take it. Santana is ready to take her first steps all over again, but fate has one more surprise for her.  
Spoilers: 2x16 "Original Song"

A/N: I know I didn't give you guys the ending you wanted, with the whole "it was just a dream" scenario, but it was the only way to end the story. But I knew I needed to give you guys some hope for the future, so I wrote this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 19: …That You Never Stop Fighting

"We need to talk," Santana told Sam, leading him out of the choir room. "We need to break up."

"What?"

Santana rushed to get the words out. "I'm not going to give you the clichés. I'm in love with somebody else and I can't be with you anymore."

"Santana, what on Pandora are you talking about? We're not dating. Did you hit your head or something?"

"Do didn't consider us dating?"

Sam shook his head, overwhelmed with confusion. "Why would I? You're a lesbian. And like totally in love with Brittany."

Santana leaned in and whispered, "You know about that?" The gears in her brain turned. "Hold it. Are you still dating Quinn?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

She quizzed, "So you didn't dump her for kissing Finn."

"She kissed Finn? When?"

Santana was too excited. "No, no, she didn't! At least I guess she didn't," she mumbled to herself. "That means it worked! It all worked!"

"You're freaking me out, Santana. And I've seen a lot of freaky movies. I once watched _Donnie Darko_ six times in a row."

Santana grabbed Sam's face and planted a kiss on each cheek before racing into the classroom, leaving Sam stunned until Quinn walked up.

"What was that?" she asked in a tone that didn't know whether to be suspicious or confused.

"I think Santana's lost her mind."

Quinn quickly dismissed it. "Oh, that happened ages ago. The gay thing probably just exasperated it."

Santana literally jumped into her seat beside Brittany. Artie was still there talking to the blonde. "Scram, Spinners, I need to talk to B alone."

Artie rolled his eyes and rolled away.

Brittany was not in a good mood. "That was really rude."

"Why are you sitting with him? After he said all those horrible things to you?" But the last bit of doubt crept into her min. "Just for clarification; he did that, right?"

Brittany calmly explained, "He came to apologize for being a meanie. He said he was still angry about the breakup and how we were flogging it in front of his face." A grin appeared on Santana's face, liking the imagery enough not to correct her. "He was like, _I was totally out of line and we should be friends again_. He swears he is not trying to get me back. You're acting really jealous, and it's kind of sweet and mean at the same time."

"You're a saint," she complained. "If it will make you happy, I'll tell him I'm sorry for yelling at him. _Later_. I just had to see you."

Brittany remained cool. "We were supposed to make plans last night. You never called."

_Wow, are these jumps going to plague me forever? _"I wish I had an explanation. All I know is that the day after I confess my love to you, you're not in my bed the next morning, and that's not right, and it's probably my fault."

Brittany studied her. "What's up? You're acting weird and twitchy and super-happy. You're freaking me out."

"I want to marry you," she blurted out.

Brittany's eyes widened. "What?"

"No, I don't mean I want to marry you."

Brittany's eyes turned down. "Oh."

"No! I mean—God, just pretend I didn't say anything."

"Okay. That's easy."

"I just wanted to tell you..." Santana struggled with the word then instead grabbed Brittany's face and pressed their lips together.

Brittany looked around, seeing that they were the center of attention. "So, I guess that means you want to tell people we're dating now."

"Yes, absolutely. Are you okay with being my girlfriend?"

"Totally. Proudly."

Santana cleared her throat, and to all the eyes in the crowd that were watching her, announced, "Hey, everyone, this is my girlfriend."

Tina blandly replied, "Is this supposed to be news? You were totally all over each other at Rachel's party. We know you're doing the nasty since Brittany thought you got her pregnant."

Mercedes added, "And then you two sang a love song to each other and you told everyone you were in love with her."

Quinn related, "Most of us girls spent the evening at Brittany's so that we could help her pick out an outfit. You never called her, so if anything we thought you'd already broken her heart."

"Kill me if I ever do that," Santana stated, her eyes locked on Brittany's. "You'll need to gang up, though. I'm pretty awesome."

"I could do it with one hand," Lauren pointed out.

"Why I didn't get invited to Brittany's?" Rachel whined.

"We needed _somebody_ who would help on Santana's end," Quinn made up on the spot. "The girl hasn't had worn an outfit that hasn't screamed at best bicurious since she got kicked off the Cheerios."

Santana was in too good of a mood to trade barbs with Quinn. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ms. Holliday was watching the proceedings. That morning, Santana had expected her to have left for her next assignment by now, but now that she was getting reacquainted with where she really was, the teacher's presence seemed natural. "Give me a sec," Santana told Brittany, hoping to convey in her tone that the _last_ thing she wanted to do was leave her side. "Ms. H, I'm so confused. I mean, what happened yesterday?"

With a grin on her face, she replied, "I'm not sure. I got a call at 1:30 in the morning last night from you, drunk off your pretty little ass. Kudos for calling for a ride, but my lesson on getting enough sleep is less effective when the teacher has bags under her eyes."

"I called you?"

"You were yammering about finishing your 'time travel mission' and being Batwoman and getting your Fierce Spice. I think you might have taken a little something with your booze."

"So you don't remember taking me to Dr. Cross?"

"Dr. Arturo Cross? The hypnotherapist? How do you know him?"

"We visited him. To change the past. I mean, the you from the other timeline…" she trailed off, realizing she sounded like she was spending too much time with Sam.

"Arturo's an old friend of mine from college, psych major and part-time happy plant salesman. He's got this novel procedure where he gives patients sedatives and helps them relive painful past experiences and understand the bad choices they made. It's like intense regressive therapy."

"But if you do it right, don't the changes stick?"

"That's impossible. Have you been hanging out with Sam and his sci-fi movies?" _Yeah, I know. _

"But... does that mean I'm still asleep?" Holly shrugged and pinched Santana on the arm. Predictably, she screamed, "Ow!"

"'Fraid not, Sweet Cheeks."

"But-but you took me! I've relived the last five months of my life! I must still be here."

"Sweetie, I think someone must have slipped you something hallucinogenic with your fun juice. I don't know where you read about his procedure, but I never took you. Furthermore, I've done the therapy; you wake up once you relive the moment you left; it's a trigger. Nothing _changes_. Babe, this is real life."

"Okay," Santana agreed, not quite believing. She took a seat beside Brittany, taking her hand in her own.

Mr. Schue announced, "Okay, so Rachel has been working on some original songs."

"They need some work," Rachel admitted, and Finn reluctantly nodded.

"I like them," Brittany offered.

Mr. Schue continued, "Guys, we're still pretty divided on what anthem we want to do."

There was a brief snafu when the entire club started yelling over each other, but Mr. Schue got the room quiet again after a minute. "I think the problem is that we're divided over what message we want to send. I think Rachel's idea to write an original song has merit. I think, if we were to write _our_ anthem, we could all agree on it."

Puck spoke up, "Wait, so _Rachel_'s gonna write our anthem? I don't think so. I think we should all get a chance. I could totally write something badass. I've been in seventeen garage bands."

"Seventeen?" Tina remarked in surprise.

"I kept getting kicked out because I would always sleep with the drummer's girlfriend."

Finn asked, "Then why did you ditch Rolly Poley last year?"

"One, because the name sucked. Two, preemptive strike." Finn and Quinn looked at each other.

Santana turned to Brittany. "I'm gonna write you a song." Brittany just beamed.

Sue's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Can I get one of the glee co-directors to come to my office? I have a surprise for you."

"She going to try to sabotage us, isn't she?" Will wondered.

"Let me go," Holly offered, "She likes me better. Marginally."

: : :

Santana was at her locker when Brittany walked up. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No."

"I totally forgive you, but you said we were going to do something to celebrate saying we loved each other."

Santana cringed. "I talked to Ms. Holliday. It turns out I started the celebration a little early and was so overjoyed I forgot to include you. I honestly don't know what I was thinking. I swear I'll make it up to you."

"Okay. Just promise me you're not going to keep changing your mind like a thong."

"Never. So, Britt-Britt, you, me, Breadstix at eight? Followed by you, me, a Shia LaBeouf movie that neither of us watches?"

"That sounds like fun."

"Awesome." Santana turned to her locker and Brittany continued to beam at her. "Can you stop staring at me?" Santana giggled, "I can't remember my locker combo."

Dirt poured from out of their lockers, ruining a sweet moment and two great outfits.

Sue was waiting behind them. "I like to play dirty. Ellen DeGenius. Portia de Breast Implants. Good luck at Regionals." She walked away, a handful of sticks in her hand.

Santana spat the dirt out of her mouth as Brittany questioned, "Is this supposed to be something for Earth Day?"

"Sweetie, let's go to the showers."

"That sounds hot, but maybe I should wash all this dirt off first."

_Let's share a shower; it'll be faster_ was the most transparent excuse in the history of coy excuses. That didn't stop Santana and Brittany from washing each other off, and then doing the other thing they did in the shower.

As Santana was toweling off Brittany, she noticed her melancholy. "What's up, Britt-Britt?"

"It's Artie."

Santana stopped. "You realize why I have an aversion to that name, right?"

"I think he would be less sad if he had a girlfriend. Or at least a rebound."

"And let me guess, you want me to perform this miracle."

"Miracle?"

"Artie dates Tina, who's cute but dresses a little weird. Then he dates you, who's super-hot but dresses a little weird." That earned her a pinch on the leg. "Seriously, I'm going to have to hook him a supermodel or something, and it still won't be as big of a jump."

"She doesn't have to be hotter than me," Brittany mumbled jealously, "or even _as_ hot."

"Aw, you don't want him to have a hotter girlfriend than you do," she accused.

"That's, like, impossible." That earned her a kiss on the head and another one on the lips.

Santana folded her arms. "Okay, fine, I will work my magic on Artie. But no guarantees. I'm giving him one setup to get it right and then he's on his own."

: : :

Ms. Holliday seemed terribly excited at the next glee meeting. She was bouncing on her feet.

"_Hola, coro,_" she greeted when the class finally settled down, "I have a surprise for you today."

"Is it going to be as awesome as last week's surprise?" Puck asked as he leered.

"What's he talking about, Holly?" Will wondered.

"Sexy songs, probably," she lied unconvincingly, "No, New Directions is going to have thirteen members."

"Did someone new join?" Rachel asked, "Why were we not privy to their audition? I haven't properly vetted them."

"Not someone new," Will replied.

Kurt walked in. "Kurt Hummel's back at McKinley!" He was nearly trampled by the dozen people vying to hug him. Santana had to pull away Finn, Rachel, Tina, and Mercedes just to get to him.

When things finally settled down again, Mr. Schue explained the week's very important, Regionals assignment: original songs.

Kurt was first to comment, "I think I've got an idea for a good one. I've got a song that a certain someone needs to hear."

"A certain someone named Blim?" Santana teased.

"Actually, I know someone who needs a song more than Blaine."

: : :

"All right, guys, let's hear it for our first song-writing seminar." Amidst cheers and applause, Mr. Schue stated, "While Quinn and Rachel are hard at work, we're gonna try to write an anthem of our own."

Holly began passing out a stack of books. "We've got rhyming dictionaries for all of you. Remember, these are just tools. Don't let yourself be limited by these. You'd be surprised what words you can make rhyme with a little _twang_." She saw a grin appear on Puck's face. "I see that look, Puckerman, and I do know all six naughty words that rhyme with _twang_." Puck counted on his hand and only got to five.

"Mr. Schue?" Santana alerted her teacher, "I've already already written a song. Tina helped me write the music for it."

"Alright, let's hear it."

"This is a song I wrote for Brittany." She waved off the hoots and hollers (and _wssh-crack_'s from Puck). "It's called 'Doing It Right'."

Brittany's eyes shot open. "Wait, what? Santana!" she hissed.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Are you really going to sing about _that_."

Santana's jaw dropped. "I-I… wow, did not think that through. I'll work on the title later." Tina was giggling at the piano, loudly as if she'd been keeping it in for a while. "Tina, hit it."

A soft, jazzy melody began to play. Santana slipped off her fur-lined jacket and tossed it into the audience, as all eyes widened in arousal.

_Hey, you can we… talk for a minute? _  
_I've got… something I'm holding in_  
_I know… that we never do this but_  
_But it's… killing me, how do I begin? _  
_Let me… be the one who deserves you_  
_Let me… be the one who saves the day_  
_Let me… be the one who sees you dance_  
_Do you… understand what I'm trying to say? _

_I wanna… be with you, and_  
_No one else… will do for me, so_  
_I have… to accept this_  
_One thing… as true and_  
_As much… as it scares me _  
_I... love... you..._

_You know… that I've missed you_  
_When you… weren't by my side_  
_Just once… let us be good again_  
_Please stop… watching their eyes_  
_Because… it's just you and me, and_  
_I know… that we will fight the fight_  
_If I… could I would go back_  
_Do it over, do it right_

_I wanna… be with you, and_  
_No one else… will do for me, so_  
_I have… to accept this_  
_One thing… as true and_  
_As much… as it scares me _  
_I... love... you..._

_I never wanna feel so untouched_  
_Go to the moon and back just to  
__Know the color of your skin  
To paint a picture in my head_

_I wanna… be with you, and_  
_No one else… will do for me, so_  
_I have… to accept this_  
_One thing… as true and_  
_As much… as it scares me _  
_I... love... you...  
I... love... you...  
_

There was of course applause.

"That was lovely, Santana," Mr. Schue remarked. "It's not an anthem, though."

"Eh, it's okay. It's the anthem of my heart."

"Ugh, even Finn and Rachel aren't that saccharine," Quinn joked.

"Yeah, 'cause you and your identical twin boyfriend don't make the _Love Is…_ comic strip look tame. At least they take their clothes off."

"What's _rine_?" Brittany asked, "And why are we a sack of it?"

"It means sugary sweet, so sweet it's painful," Santana explained.

"Aw, but we _are_, Santana."

Puck joked, "Jeez, I didn't think Hispanic people could blush that much."

: : :

Tina, Mike, and Mercedes were eating lunch in the choir room as Santana looked in. Her eyes were currently appraising Tina. _If I were to break up Mike and Tina, she and Artie could get back together. Then again, she and Mike really seem to be happy. They're cute. (__**Sap**__.)_ She dismissed this idea, if only on account of putting them back together was her first machination. Her eyes then moved onto Mercedes, the third wheel. After about thirty seconds, she put her plan into action.

She sidled up and took a seat next to Mercedes. Her voice low so that Tina and Mike could continue their eye-sex, she whispered, "So, I know _that_ look. You mad at me? I mean, in all my matchmaking schemes…"

Mercedes interrupted her, "Have you really done that much?"

The old Santana wouldn't have let that kind of disregard fly, but this was the new Santana. "Okay, so it was just Puckerman. But I did keep those two together." She gestured toward the Asian couple. "And to a lesser extent, the Blondies and Size-Mismatched Lovebird, whos would have probably imploded if not for me. Also, there was this fixing up of me with Brittany; granted at the expense of unmatching her and Artie. As I was saying, I've kind of neglected to offer you my services."

"Look, I'm not _desperate_ for a man. If you want to set me up, though, I won't stop you. I should point out that you've not exactly helped Artie either."

"You sound like Brittany. And I'll have you know I am."

Mercedes's eyebrows lowered into a suspicious look, "You're not by any chance trying to set me up with Funky Wheeled White Boy?"

Santana played dumb. "I wasn't until you brought it up. It _would_ split my work in half." _And probably more. _

"Nice try. Me and Arts are just friends, and that's all we'll be. Trust me, if there were sparks between us, we'd know. And I could never do that to Tina. It's like the laws of feminism."

"Don't quote _Mean Girls_. It's unbecoming. And it distracts me because I have a girl-crush on Amanda Seyfried."

"I'll make this easy on you. You can start with seeing if that fine piece of Desi hip-hopper that Artie invited to tryouts is looking for some chocolate-lovin'."

"I bet Santana could work her devil magic. That might require getting on Artie's good side. And the only way Santana knows how to do that is get him laid. It looks like I'll be moving Project Girlfriend for Wheelio to the top of my to-do list. So, it may take a bit."

"I ain't in a hurry. You're doing me a favor. Heck, I could probably just ask Artie to set me up himself and save you the trouble."

"I'd really love to have an ulterior motive for helping him out. He's going to assume I have one anyway, and I'd like it to be a tad more altruistic than 'Sorry for stealing your girl.'"

"I'm eager to see you work your so-called devil magic anyway."

"Just for that, I'm telling D.J. Kumar you're easy."

"Be nice; I still haven't chosen a side yet."

"Side?"

"Until the Artie-Brittany breakup drama cools down, we have to choose sides. It's dumb, but God made teenagers dumb for a reason. I don't know what it is."

"So who's on whose side?"

"Well, Puck, Kurt, Rachel, and Finn are obviously backing Brittany moving on to you. Mike and Tee are in the stickiest situation. On the one hand, they were kind of a foursome with Britt and Artie, so they're close to both. Not to mention, with Artie being Tina's ex and Brittany being Mike's, it's risky for them to pick. I suspect they'll waffle until it all blows over, but push comes to shove, they'll back Artie because Brittany was the dumper. Sam's buddies with Artie and Quinn's been waiting for you two to hook up, so they're kind of a house divided. And Artie's my boy, even if I thought Brittany made the right decision."

"Interesting. I've always been the instigator of breakups, so I'm guessing it was always the girl who got supporters, so that's why I never heard about it. Well, I've got a boy to fix up."

: : :

As Santana watched the petite brunette, she mused about her lack of creativity. The school was full of girls, but she kept coming back to the same people. Genevieve almost didn't seem surprised she was being accosted by Santana. "Still not interested in Puckerman."

"Oh, no, he got swept up by Lauren Zizes. In a way, literally. No, I've come to gauge your interest in the fine young gentleman known as Artie Abrams."

"He's dating Brittany Pierce. This is another one of your schemes, I suspect. You're as Iago breaking the marriage between Desdemona and Othello."

"So, I'm just gonna skip over the fact you're just making mixed references to 1990s cartoon shows, and point out that Brittany is _not_ Artie's girlfriend." She took a calming breath and explained, "They've broken up. She's with someone a hundred times better now."

"Who, you?"

"Yes, in fact."

"Oh," she remarked surprised, before repeating with joy, "Oh, congratulations."

"Okay, so I'm conditioned to just accept praise as a typical response, but can I ask why?"

"Because it is the marriage of the sun and the moon! Two things that were rent asunder have been rejoined in harmony. Here concludes the third act. Once the balance has been restored, the story ends. Once you have trimmed the loose threads, the audience has closure."

"I think you might have spent too much time around microwaves as a child. But seriously, you want some of his sweater-vested, wheelchair-rolling, bespectacled, white boy rappin' love?"  
She rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, I'm actually trying to sell you on him."

"It's okay. I know he has a passion for movie-making and even though the stage and the studio have oft been rivals, I suspect are you setting up a _Wuthering Heights_. In addition, I live my life upon the motto 'All the world's a stage' which comes from _As You Like It_, and I suspect you are astutely directing plots to a similar ending." Santana looked profoundly lost. "Has he shown interest in me?"

"If I say yes, will you believe me?"

"Not now that you have asked that question. Typically, I should be following the route of most characters and showing a blind eye to obvious subterfuge, but you're clearly cast as a unqiue antiheroine/antivillainess archetype, so I'm inclined to reverse the rules."

"Look, I use brutal honesty when I should use polite white lies and outright deception when the truth is the 'correct' option, so forgive me. Anyway, no, he didn't ask for you, but I think you two would work out."

"Really? Why?"

"Yeah, I don't have an answer other than I find him completely without attractive attributes and you so annoying that the only way I could ever enjoy your presence in a romantic setting is if it involved dispassionate sadomasochism. I figure that counts for something."

"I concur. How often does life teach us that once something is taken from us, we are given something new. Hmm? This will give me a supreme opportunity to act out a story about an open-minded girl looking beneath the surface of a character whose obvious disability would invoke the distaste of shallower character."

"Yeah, so this conversation has gone on hours longer than I've intended. I'll set it up. Feel free to refrain from giving me updates on the relationship."

: : :

When Santana saw Artie scowling at her, she walked right up to him. "I need a favor."

"You have a lot of gall."

"I'm willing to make this _quid pro quo_."

"You better specify, because even though I know the literal Latin translation, typically the exchange is something I know you don't want to give me and I'm too angry at you to accept."

"Gross. No, I need you to help set up your friend in the jazz band, the one who thinks he's Usher?"

"Raj? He's actually much more versatile. He was simply doing something popular to impress you guys."

"Don't care. Mercedes is into him. Usually I'd say leave matchmaking to the professionals…"

"How many people have you set up?"

"I wish people would stop second-guessing me. Especially the very people I'm trying to do a solid for. It hurts my feelings and makes me feel less confident," she noted sarcastically.

"Wait, does that mean you're trying to set _me_ up with someone, too?"

"Think of it as a swap meet. I take one girl off your hands and set you up with a new one."

"Is this some kind of trick? Are you going to Zizes me like you did Puck?"

"Hey, Puck _liked_ my setup. I really wish people would not assume the worse in me. It's not like I haven't given them reason, but _seriously_."

"Fine, I'll hear you out."

"I've already got a candidate." She hands him a slip of paper. "Blind date. Friday night. Breadstix. Eight o'clock. I told her to bring a purple orchid. She may put it in her hair. Or use it to reenact some play on the table. Anyway, if you need _any_ help, do not hesitate to ask anyone except for me."

"And Raj?"

"He'll be in the booth next to you. Be a dear and copy all that information down for him. I'll tell Mercedes to bring… let's say a yellow flower. He's not color-blind, is he?"

"It's not come up."

"Well, if he is, just point Mercedes out to him."

"Wow, your attention to detail really makes me want to advise you not to quit your day job."

"I'd take offense except for the fact that my day job is being the most awesome girlfriend to Brittany ever, and that obviously gets your dander up."

"What would you have done if I was sure I wasn't ready to move on from Brittany?"

"I'd sic some girl with a hormone imbalance on you and tell Brittany you're just playing hard to get. Too bad Suzy Pepper's already graduated."

: : :

_Take me, you can leave me  
But I won't ever change  
If you don't like the rules  
Don't play my game  
Time for me to get R-E-S-P-E-C-T  
But if I don't, it's all in me _

_Whoa oh oh, oh oh  
Hell to the no no, no no, no no, no no  
I said whoa oh oh, oh oh  
Hell to the no no, no no, no no, no no _

"Mercedes, really, really good. But, um…"

"_But_ my butt, Mr. Schue. That song was amazing."

"No, I agree. I'm just not sure it's what the Regional judges will be looking for."

Santana suggested, "Mr. Schue, you want to hear what I renamed 'Doing It Right'?"

"No, no, no. Guys, guys. Just think about it. What's your favorite song of all time?"

Brittany responded with "Friday."

"'How Do I Live' by LeAnn Rimes," was Santana's answer.

"_Sap_," Puck remarked.

"Don't I know it. What's yours?"

"'Out of Time' by the Stones."

"What's wrong with you, Puckerman?" Lauren remarked, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, and what are those songs about?"

"The first verse is pretty simple, but the second verse is all metaphorical," Brittany replied.

"All these songs come from a feeling of lacking. I want you to look inside yourself and ask, _what is missing?_"

"We're all these great singers," Mercedes explained, "and we're still being bullied."

"We're losers," Tina explained.

Will pointed to Tina. "I think we've got our Regionals inspiration."

: : :

_So, how long have I been lying here, just staring into Brittany's eyes?_ Santana wondered to herself as she lounged in her bed, sticky and nude. Brittany, in a similar condition, lied facing her, catching her breath.

"So, I guess it is different with feelings," Santana noted, after a notably long non-uncomfortable silence, unable to hold a smile of her face so large it hurt. _Sap_.

"It's _better_," Brittany corrected.

"Yeah." She scooted closer to her girlfriend. _"Girlfriend" … it feels good to say that._ Her hands found their way around the blonde's neck, pulling her in for a kiss that didn't last nearly long enough because Brittany surprised her by pulling her on top of her body. Now pressed forehead-to-forehead, Santana whispered, "So what do you want to do now?"

"Sleep," Brittany answered.

"Oh," Santana replied mockingly, as if wounded. "Really?"

"I'm sleepy." To demonstrate, she yawned and closed her eyes.

Santana snuggled onto Brittany's chest. "Fine, but we're starting the day off right tomorrow."

"Mm-hmm," Brittany agreed sleepily. "If you're not sleepy yet, I want you to tell me a story."

Santana thought for a moment. "Alright, this is the story about the girl who was so in love with her best friend she went back in time so that she could give her the perfect love story."

"This sounds like a good story. Does she get the girl?"

"She does, in the end. But she has to work really, really hard, because an evil nerd-villain with wheels for legs tries to steal her from the heroine." Brittany groaned. "Okay, so he wasn't an evil villain, but he didn't love the princess as much as the heroine."

"She's a princess?"

"Of course she's a princess. The most beautiful one in the land. And that's why the heroine had to become a better person. She even went around doing good deeds for all the other people. And they lived happily ever after."

"Everyone?"

"I guess. The princess and the heroine did. And a lot of other people did. The heroine even set up all the lonely characters on dates at the most awesome restaurant in the land."

"Breadstix?"

"Breadstix."

"And did they fall in love?"

"I don't know yet."

"It doesn't sound like the story is finished."

"I guess it's not," Santana said thoughtfully. "Go to sleep, baby. Sweet dreams."

_The story isn't finished. I guess Mr. Schue was right. There is something missing. Maybe that's why I'm still here. Though, I expect it would take me until the end of time to fix __**everything**__._

Santana looked at Brittany's dozing features. _I think I can live with 'until the end of time.'_

* * *

A/N: Psyche! Yeah, I totally pulled a fast one on you. The dream ending was in my original plan, which means that Chapter 18 (which was Chapter 13 when I started) was supposed to be the last one. Then I couldn't help but scribble down some notes for the Sam/Santana break-up scene. Then I realize how much that ending totally _sucked_, so I changed the ending around the time I was writing Chapter 3 or so, so it's been my intention for the vast majority of the series to continue with the storyline.

So, I've got a confession to make. I've been second guessing the title since Day 1. "Doing It Right" is pretty close to "Get It Right." And it's vague and uninteresting. But I supposed the joke and that line in the song redeem it.

Speaking of the song, I'm not a songwriter. I just kind of wrote lyrics based on a conglomeration of song lyrics and lines of dialogue. It was supposed to be pretty epic, with callbacks to the story and from the actual episodes. Also, for humorous effect, each line was supposed to start out sounding like she was going to say something sexual only to end with something romantic. But again, I'm not a songwriter, and even though I've been working on the song since around Chapter 8, I've been neglecting it lately, so I didn't have time to turn it into what I wanted. If someone wants to fix it for me, be my guest.

On that note, even though I'm listing this as "Completed," I've already got plans to extend this series with continuation/rewrites of the rest of the episodes for the rest of Season 2. I make no promises about when they'll come out or how long they'll be. I'll be focusing on writing my _Glee_ novel after this.

Here's the funny thing about OC's. Usually, they're introduced by fanfiction writers to tie up loose ends. Unfortunately, since I just threw in a handful that I had from my notes, I didn't really plan on having it resolve all the shipping drama. I mean, I definitely never intended on having Genevieve and Artie getting together, and they still might not. I do like Raj with Mercedes, but I haven't decided on a storyline. And then there's Faith. You guys pushed me to continue her drama with Santana, so now I'm a firm unrequited Faith-Santana shipper, so she's going to remain a loose end until I find a guy or girl to match her up with.


	20. VOLUME 2: The Story Is Never Finished

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 20  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but her calling is far from over. Today is the first day of the rest of her life.  
Spoilers: 2x16 "Original Song" and 2x22 "New York" (also the Live Tour)

A/N: So, I'm continuing this series for another seven chapters which will constitute a short "Volume 2" of this series. Because I want to live to see 30, I'm revoking my promise for chapters of increasing size. I'll make sure they're at least 5000 words though.

Sometimes, I'm more brilliant than I realize. I was rereading this story and I noticed that I'd ended Chapter 3 with "the story's not over", just like Chapter 19. Just like I also didn't plan for the "different versus better" to become a motif. Sometimes these things just happen.

* * *

Chapter 20: The Story Is Never Finished

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Santana tried to break up with Sam only to find out that: "We're not dating." Yep, it turns out that Santana was successful in fixing her relationship with Brittany, so she gets to stay in the awesome world where she and Brittany are together. But New Directions still has to get ready for competition. "I like to play dirty. Ellen DeGenius. Portia de Breast Implants. Good luck at Regionals." In other news: "Kurt Hummel's back at McKinley!" New Directions is writing original songs, and Santana wrote one for Brittany: "If I could I would go back/Do it over, do it right." Aw, that's sweet! And relevant. But Brittany really wants Santana to fix up Artie with a new girlfriend, so she sets him up on a blind date with Genevieve, that weird theater chick. But Santana's totally willing to do it, since she gets to fall asleep with Brittany every night. And that's what you missed on _Glee_!_

There was a bright red banner hanging from the ceiling with flowing silver script proclaiming: "Congratulations New Directions. 12th place at Nationals. Good on ya!"

Santana was pulling items from her locker when Brittany walked up to her. In a soft tone, she asked, "Hey. You still pissed?"

Santana held up a cloth doll with brown pigtails, a tiny yellow cardigan, and a plaid skirt. "Do you think this voodoo doll looks enough like Rachel Berry to actually work?"

"Come on. You can't be mad at Rachel forever."

Incredulously, Santana replied, "Uh, yes, we can. How could you possibly be so calm?"

Brittany leaned back against her locker, and Santana mirrored her. "I don't know. I hated losing just as much as everyone, but this year wasn't about winning for me."

"Clearly, 'cause we got our asses kicked," Santana snapped. Seeing Brittany's expression, her face softened and she did something she rarely did: she apologized sincerely. "Sorry. What was it about?"

"Acceptance," Brittany replied, causing a twist in Santana's chest. She went into a speech that Santana only caught the gist of because she was just enjoying the sound of Brittany's voice. She called the glee club a family, which seemed absurd to Santana, and she said so. But Brittany, pulling away from her locker so that she could face the brunette, was quick to point out that they _were_ indeed a family, who loved and accepted each other. As she faced the blonde, Santana's heart melted a little as Brittany related future events that she seemed to know with certainty were going to happen: Mike and Tina's wedding, followed by babies which may or may not be Asian; and the operation that would give Artie back the use of his legs. "I love them. I love everybody in glee club. And I get to spend another year with everyone I love, so, I'm good."

Santana's head was bowed, her voice low. "What about you and I?"

"I love you, Santana," she explained as if it were the most plainly obvious thing in the world, "I love you more than I've loved anyone else in this world. All I know about you and I is, because of that, I think anything's possible."

Santana's face lit up in a huge smile. She leaned forward, taking Brittany in her arms. "You're my best friend," she told her, her face falling into a look of pensive melancholy once it was hidden from Brittany's view.

"Me, too," Brittany replied to perhaps a different statement that Santana hadn't stated aloud.

Santana chuckled to hide the tears trying to fill her eyes. "When did you get so smart?" She held up her hand, her pinky extended, which Brittany took before they walked down the hallway, finger-in-finger if not hand-in-hand, to their next class.

The sound of the bell chiming woke Santana, who sat straight up at her desk in a classroom, finding her pinky linked with Brittany's.

The blonde seated beside her made the comment, "That wasn't very smart, Santana, falling asleep in class."

"It's not my fault math is so damn boring."

"We're in math? No wonder Mr. DeWitt didn't seem very happy when I read out of my textbook." She held up a World History textbook.

"Well, let's get to our next class," Santana remarked.

"Um, Santana…?" Brittany remarked, pulling out a compact. She held it open to Santana, who noticed her hair was disarray. "Come to the bathroom with me; I'll fix it."

As Santana let Brittany drag her to the girls' bathroom, her mind was on her dream. In the back of her mind, she still had a lingering fear that she might wake up from this… alternate reality? Except how could she dream if this was already a dream? It was all very _Inception_.

_So, we didn't win Nationals, so that means we __**do**__ win Regionals. But why aren't Britt and I together? In my dream, it wasn't not like we were broken up; it was like we weren't yet together. _

Santana's clever mind put the pieces together. _In a way_, she pondered, _stuff's still happening in the timeline I came from, so maybe that's what I'm seeing? I've passed the point where I know what's happening in advance, so maybe now I get to dream the future? A __**different**__ future?_

Brittany was expertly restyling her hair as Santana's mind continuing to whirl. She resolved that she had two objectives for the next two months: _Take New Directions to Nationals._

_And don't lose my girl._ Santana smiled at Brittany in the mirror. She smiled back sweetly, pressing a kiss onto her cheek, annoying a Cheerio at an adjacent mirror.

: : :

Lauren Zizes walked into the choir room, where she found Will dancing in place, studying his feet. "Hey, Mr. Schue."

Will looked up, surprised. "Lauren, what can I do for you?"

With a nervousness that was highly atypical of the girl, she asked in lieu of an answer, "How's the choreography going?"

"Good. Really good. I think that even Finn will be able to do these steps. If not, he spends most of the song in the back."

"Would it be easier with an even number of people?"

Will's eyes lit up. "Sure! You found someone who'd to join? I know it's last minute, but that's never been a problem for us." Lauren didn't answer, he asked glumly, "Or are you subtracting yourself?"

Her voice flat, she replied, "I might as well; I'm not adding anything. I can't sing. I can't dance. I'm pretty sure that dress Mercedes picked out for us cost thirty bucks more in my size."

"Lauren, glee club doesn't exclude anyone, not the least of all ourselves."

"I don't want to get you guys disqualified," Lauren explained, "I wasn't a member when you guys won Sectionals."

"I already checked the rules," Will countered, "as long as you're not a featured soloist, it doesn't matter." He stared down Lauren, who bowed her head. "What's this really about, Lauren? I'm a teacher; I know an excuse when I see one."

"I dumped Puckerman."

Will couldn't hold back a laugh. "It's always relationship drama, right before a competition."

"I was going to wait until after Regionals, I swear. But he started yammering about _Call of Duty _again, and it was just the last straw."

"Look, I can't make you stay, Lauren. We'll still have twelve members without you. I really thought you'd found a place here."

"I still have a place, Mr. Schue. The A/V Club's still giving you the hookup with the staging and the lighting and everything. We don't do things halfway."

"I'm still sorry to see you go. Really."

"Me, too. Don't tell anyone I did this." She walked up and accepted a hug from Will. "I'll see you around." There was a pause in her retreat as she reached the doorway. "The reason I'm president of the A/V Club is I'm scary. And the wrestling team respects me because of that, too. It was nice to be part of something where I had actual friends."

"I think you'll still have friends when you leave."

"Yeah, you're right. You know, I never really dug those oversensitive, be-your-friend teachers, but you're actually pretty rad, Mr. Schue."

"Thanks, Lauren. You're pretty rad yourself."

: : :

Quinn was tinkering with the piano when Rachel entered. "Ready?" Quinn asked.

Rachel had something to say first. "We're friends right?"

Quinn studied Rachel for a moment. "I guess so."

"I mean, everything that happened last year. You gave your baby to my mom. We kinda bonded over it, right?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is that I know we haven't spent a lot of time together this past year, but I thought that we were close enough to be honest with each other."

Quinn read between the lines. "Go ahead, ask me."

"Fine. Are you and Finn together?"

"Yes," Quinn replied honestly, "It's been a couple of weeks." When Rachel's face dropped, she hissed, "It's like Groundhog's Day with you, Rachel. How many times do you have to make the same mistake before you figure out it's not going to work out?"

Wounded, Rachel replied, "Well, thank you for being honest with me, Quinn, and I'm happy for you and Finn, but don't go and try to rewrite history. It was real between us. He chose me over you."

"And how long did that last for?"

"Why are you being so mean?"

Quinn got up from the bench and approached Rachel. "Do you want to know how this story plays out?" She waited until Rachel looked up, and continued in a rather despondent tone. "I get Finn. You get heartbroken. And then Finn and I stay here and start a family. I'll become a successful real estate agent and Finn will take over Kurt's dad's tire shop." Her voice cracked. "You don't belong here, Rachel. And you can't hate for helping to send you on your way."

Rachel shook her head in defiance. "I'm not giving up on Finn. It's not over between—"

Quinn's serenity broke. "Yes, it is! You're so frustrating. And that's why you can't write a good song. Because you live in this little schoolgirl fantasy of life. Rachel, if you keep looking for that happy ending, then you are never going to get it right." She lowered her voice again. "We're done with that, so why don't we return to our work?" She sighed as she returned to the piano.

"No. I think I'm going to write this song on my own." Rachel turned and raced out of the room, her face breaking into tears.

Santana woke with a start when her alarm went off. _Another stupid dream._ Beside her in the bed, Brittany slowly slithered away, rolling onto her side. "Morning."

Santana took a deep, refreshing breath. "Morning."

"Did you have nice dreams?" she asked, as if she were psychic.

"I dreamed about Rachel and Quinn."

"Mmm… sexy dreams?"

Santana's eyes shot open. "What? No! Don't put images like that in my head. No, they were fighting over Finn."

"That's silly. Quinn doesn't want Finn anymore. She's with Sam."

Santana ran her fingers through her hair, or at least tried to, dreading the bird's nest that was undoubtedly the top of her head. "That's the thing. _Quinn_ was the one with Finn in my dream, and it was _Rachel_ who wanted him back."

"But then who was Sam with?"

Santana took a moment to recreate the configuration from her memories. "Me," she replied. Brittany frowned at that. "Don't give me that look. It was obviously a nightmare because you were still with Artie, and I was dating a _boy_."

"Maybe I should give you good dreams then," Brittany replied, pressing her lips to Santana's. The Latina responded, but her thoughts traitorously drifted to other things. She was indeed having dreams—_visions?_—of the original timeline. In a queer way, it made sense. If by achieving her objective of making Brittany her girlfriend—the word seemed inadequate—she got to keep the changes she made by remaining in the altered timeline. If the universe's justification for letting her have her happy ending was that her business of "scheming" would never be completed, it made sense she'd get glimpses of the way things would be without her interference, so that she could continue to have an edge up.

_Though, how the hell is watching Berry and Fabray fight over the lumbering giant supposed to help me out?_

"Santana?" Brittany commented, "Your lady-kisses are kind of weak."

"Sorry, Britt-Britt, the most bizarre thing happened: something else was more distracting to me than you. Let me set it right." She descended upon her girlfriend.

: : :

As far as Santana could tell, Rachel and Finn seemed happy, though she briefly entertained the thought she wouldn't know healthy heterosexual love if it were right in front of her.

Sam and Quinn seemed less happy, though. As Sam rambled on about something geek-related, Quinn had an eternally bored look on her face. _Thank God I got to dodge that bullet. _ When Sam left, leaving Quinn alone, Santana ambled over. "Hey, girlfriend…"

Quinn brusquely cut her off. "Santana, you are the worst actress ever. We're kinda friends now, but not '_hey, girlfriend_' friends, so I know you're up to something. I hope you're not mistaking me for another blondie who's a little more gullible."

Quinn suddenly found a hand around her neck. Santana hissed, "Watch your mouth, Fabray. I will cave your pretty little face in if you dare insult my girl again."

Santana's hand was pried away. "That's more like it. And please don't touch me. I know where those hands have been." As Santana showily sniffed her fingers and grinned, Quinn continued, "Just be straight with me. What are you after?"

"I got what I was after. It's about what you're after. The length of your relationship with the Goldfish has beaten the Vegas odds and I'm wondering if you're not thinking about a certain old flame." When a brief flash of panic brushed over Quinn's face, Santana pounced. "He's happy with her. Don't get involved."

"Look, I don't want to break them up, okay? I just get nostalgic every once in a while about what could have been. I loved him and frankly he's dating _way_ below himself. Forgive for thinking that he could do better." Off Santana's look, she added, "…whether or not that's me."

"Regardless, keep your paws of Finn until you and Rachel finish your little song."

"Finn?" Quinn shook her head, "Yeah, you're right. I'm romanticizing. We were never great together. I mostly just want him because he's the quarterback. It'd help my prom queen chances."

"Oh, please, you've got that in the bag. It makes me sick, in fact. Think about it: you're the third hottest girl at this school, and Number One and Number Two have forfeited their chances by pairing up. The quarterback's with a girl who's so focused on a choir competition that she couldn't be bothered to compete."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to you being nice."

"How do you think I feel?"

: : :

Rachel was seated at the piano, tapping at the keys, when Quinn entered the auditorium.

"I didn't realize you played," Quinn commented, with a kind half-smile.

Matter-of-fact as always, Rachel replied, "My two gay dads sent me to lessons when I was four. After two months, we came a mutual agreement that it was an unsatisfactory use of my time and talent. Still, I'm aware of the layout, not that it matters since I have perfect pitch."

"I sometimes wonder why I subject myself to the answers I get when I ask you questions."

Rachel bowed her head. "What happened to that truce we called a year ago?" she asked out of the blue.

Quinn chuckled. "You're asking me this now? We were civil for like two months until we got out of school for summer vacation. When we got back, we returned to our old ways. Why'd it take six months for you to care?"

"For the longest time, I just deluded myself into thinking it was some sort of sibling-like affection. I don't exactly have a good context for that," she muttered, looking at the hand-written sheet music on the piano, "I thought we had bonded over what happened with Shelby Corcoran."

"We had, okay?" Quinn strained to admit, "But I could only push the hurt down for so long. You look _so much_ like her that sometimes I glance at you in the hall and I become _furious _because I think _you're_ the reason my baby was taken from me. And then I think, _I'm right_. Because you weren't the daughter she wanted, she stole mine. And I know that's unfair…"

Rachel cut her off with her own train of thought, "I imagine she's going to look you. Genetics says otherwise, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say genetics didn't give you that exact hair color either." Quinn bristled but didn't comment. "You gave my mom a reason, an excuse, not to want me."

"Life isn't like _Fried Green Tomatoes_, is it?" Quinn joked, "You losing a mother and me losing a daughter didn't bring us together as the most intimate of friends."

"You lost a boyfriend, too."

Quinn looked away. "I lost more than a boyfriend. I lost the love of my life. Or maybe just who I thought was."

"You've got Sam now."

"I do have Sam. He's… sweet." Quinn's eyes lost focus as she looked into the auditorium seating silently.

Rachel took another step forward, placing her hand tentatively on Quinn's elbow. "Look, Quinn, I know you and I have similar tastes in men, but we have different philosophies. I believe in soul mates and love conquering all. Puck and Lauren broke up…"

Once risking meeting Rachel's eyes for a second, she asked, "Even if… What about Sam? He doesn't deserve to be put through the ringer. He's sweet, almost too sweet for me."

"I'm not saying cheat on the guy with Noah. You've already got one strike in that area." Quinn just shrugged, losing the conversation again. "Quinn?"

Without turning her head back to Rachel, the blonde asked, honestly and fearfully, "How do you think it's going to play out, if I stay with Sam?"

Quinn looked over just in time to see Rachel shrug. "Forgive me for being the terminal optimist. Maybe you date him for another year and then you to get married before, during, after college," she conjectured, eyeing the promise ring on Quinn's finger.

Quinn, sensing Rachel's gaze, looked at her hand as well. "I'll work as a real estate agent. And he'll… he'll do something. I'll stay in Lima for him so that we can go to college together at UNOH."

"Even though you're better than that."

Quinn scoffed. "You're not kidding about that terminal optimism. Rachel, _you're_ better than that. You're gonna be on Broadway someday."

"I know that," she replied simply. Noticing Quinn holding something back, she prompted, "Okay, hit me. What aren't you saying?"

"What's Finn going to do?"

"Finn and I are destined to be together. He'll come with me, of course."

"To Broadway? You really do look at the world through rose-colored glasses. You honestly think Finn is as talented as you?"

"I'll admit his voice is more of a rock ballad type than a musical theater type. We'll find something for him."

"In Manhattan? What are his useful skills? He can play football but he only wins if he's got a talented coach by his side. He can sing well enough that you don't want to plug your ears when he does karaoke. He's surprisingly mechanically inclined, which would be great if he were staying in Ohio, where his stepfather owns an auto repair shop."

"Finn doesn't want to become a Lima Loser. And he doesn't have to be."

"I agree," Quinn replied honestly, "Finn is better than Lima. But is he good enough for New York?"

"Love _or_ fame? You think I'll have to confront this issue."

"High school love or _your greatest dream_, Rachel? Aren't there like six million people living in New York?"

"Eight. Plenty of people marry their high school sweethearts," Rachel argued.

"And how many of your idols did that? Look, at this rate, I'm probably going to marry my high school sweetheart. I've accumulated _three_ already, so the odds are in my favor. And I'm okay with that."

"You're better than Lima, too. A pretty face and a lot of ambition can take you places."

"Maybe. But let's talk about your ambition. I know where you belong, and I wonder if you're going to get there with that six-foot-three weight on your shoulder."

"Why are you being so mean? Do you want Finn back, too?"

"Yes," Quinn replied emphatically, "…and I also want what I had with Puck back while we're getting this all out on the open. And, at the same time, I want to stay with Sam, because he's a quality guy." She exclaimed fiercely, "I'm seventeen! You know what I really want? I want to be prom queen. That is literally the extent of my ambition right now."

"I think the boys are just a metaphor for your fears about the future."

"I'll worry about the future later. Right now, being prom queen _really_ is the best shot of success open to me right now."

"It's just a plastic crown."

"It's a pretty plastic crown. Looks really good in a display case."

"And Sam looks good in one, too. You don't really love him, do you?"

"I do," Quinn remarked as if it were of little consequence, "But I was certainly more in love with Finn after six months together. And Puck… just in that moment when I was looking at Beth…"

Her voice low, Rachel noticed, "That's the first time I've ever heard you say her name. In a year."

Tears were flooding Quinn's eyes and she was holding on to the piano for dear. "And now you know why. Because there's something in my life that's missing."

Rachel looked at the blank sheet music on the piano. "I know how you feel." She walked over to Quinn and put a hand on her shoulder. The blonde collapsed into her arms for no other reason than the inability to support herself.

: : :

The 2011 Midwest Regional Show Choir Competition was held in Dayton, Ohio.

Rachel was rambling at the front of the bus. "We're actually very lucky that they remap the competition boundaries every year. The rules changed last year, disallowing many private arts schools from competing under the U.S. Show Choir Association program. Consequently, Eastern Ohio, including Vocal Adrenaline, was pulled into the Lake Erie Region. Since they will be competing against culturally deprived states such as Pennsylvania and Eastern Michigan, they're shoe-ins to win their Region, and we won't have to face them until Nationals."

"Assuming we win Regionals," Mercedes pointed out.

"What kind of attitude is that? We _will_ win. Our competition is Aural Intensity."

"Who mopped the floor with us last time," Quinn reminded her.

"At the time, they were taught by the late Rick Denham, who has many years of show choir experience, and not by a sociopathic cheerleading coach."

Santana explained, "Look, I'm the last person who wants to talk up Sue Sylvester, but she's _fiercely_ competitive, and did have enough sense to recruit Kurt and Mercedes last year, turning the Cheerios into something not unlike a show choir. And she's crafty." Mercedes smiled at the genuine compliment.

"I wouldn't worry about Ms. Sylvester," Will noted cryptically. "I have a feeling she's going to shoot herself in the foot." Holly giggled at the private joke.

Rachel continued, "Furthermore, this is the first time the Crawford Country Day Starlings have ever participated as a show choir."

Kurt was quick to explain, "Crawford's choir isn't _new_, though. They were a Nationally-ranked chorus before they made the transition. And they obviously won their Sectional competition in Detroit."

"They were up against Jane Addams," Mercedes remarked, "who were disqualified when they found out that several of the students were using their bus to transport cigarettes over state lines."

"And the other team was from _Ann Arbor_," Rachel pointed out as if it were supposed to mean something. No one seemed to understand her meaning.

: : :

Aural Intensity ended their performance with a sad ballad titled "Does Anybody Hear Her". Unfortunately for them, strong vocals were not their strong point, even if their waltz-like choreography was impeccable.

_Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?  
Or does anybody even know she's going down today?  
Under the shadow of our steeple  
With all the lost and lonely people  
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me  
Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?  
_

During the intermission, Rachel was approached by a tall, lean brunette girl in a schoolgirl's outfit. "Hello," Rachel greeted her warmly while pulling out a Sharpie from her belt.

Coolly, the girl replied, "Chloe MacKenzie, captain of the Crawford Country Day Starlings."

Rachel's chest puffed up as she extended her hand, then retracted it to switch her pen to her other hand, and finally extended it again. "Oh, then it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Rachel Berry, and I'm the captain of William McKinley's New Directions. Would you like to meet my boyfriend Finn? He's my co-captain."

Chloe ignored Rachel's hand. "Would you like to meet _my_ boyfriend? He's Thad Harwood, captain of the Dalton Academy Warblers?"

"Oh! I think I have perhaps met already him. I have become acquainted with the Warblers' lead singer, Blaine… I always forget his last name; it's not important. He's close with my friend Kurt."

Chloe grinned maliciously and then called out, "Oh, Paige, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

A petite girl with honey-colored hair approached. "Yeah, Chlo?"

"Rachel, this is Paige Preston, our lead singer and one of my co-captains. Paige, this is Rachel Berry. Her friend Kurt is the one who stole your boyfriend."

Paige looked perplexed for a moment. "Are we talking about Blaine?" She rolled her eyes, telling Rachel, "I used to have a crush on Blaine before I knew he was gay."

"Happens to the best of it," Rachel replied politely.

Paige turned to her teammate. "Chloe, are you trying to stir up trouble again?" She shook her head and returned her eyes to Rachel. "Most of the girls on the Starlings have Warbler boyfriends and she's still mad that you guys beat them at their Sectionals."

Rachel addressed Chloe, "You realize _they_'d be up against you here had we'd lost."

A vein popping on her temple, Chloe haughtily pointed away, dismissing Paige. "Go send over Miranda!"

"Nice to meet you," Paige noted kindly before walking off, "Enjoy our performance!"

: : :

The Crawford Country Day Starlings had changed out of their uniforms and were now dressed in knee-length, navy blue gowns, paired with hunter green belts. Like their male counterparts, they were assembled in a tight group formation, their backs facing the audience.

Chloe hummed a note and swung her hand in time for four beats. In unison, the girls sang a light, easy-paced melody, as they spun around together. Paige, positioned in front, stepped forward and sang the solo.

_Comparisons are easily done  
Once you've had a taste of perfection  
Like an apple hanging from a tree  
I picked the ripest one, I still got the seed_

_You said move on, where do I go?_  
_I guess second best is all I will know_

_'Cause when I'm with him I am thinking of you_  
_Thinking of you, what you would do_  
_If you were the one who was spending the night_  
_Oh, I wish that I was looking into your eyes_

When the song ended, the reaction was slow despite the beauty of the singer's voice. The Warblers leapt up in their seats and cheered loudly, inappropriately so for such a mellow song, but it was enough to get polite applause from the rest of the audience, especially New Directions.

Paige retreated back into the group, and Ezra, another Starling with shoulder-length blond hair, moved to the front of the stage. She sang the first line of sweet, upbeat _ah ah oh_'s before the rest of the club took over the melody so she could sing the solo.

_Keep drinking coffee, stare me down across the table  
While I look outside  
So many things I'd say if only I were able  
But I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by_

_You've got opinions, man_  
_We're all entitled to 'em, but I never asked_  
_So let me thank you for your time, and try not to waste anymore of mine_  
_And get out of here fast_

_I hate to break it to you, babe, but I'm not drowning_  
_There's no one here to save_

_Who cares if you disagree?_  
_You are not me_  
_Who made you king of anything?_  
_So you dare tell me who to be?_  
_Who died and made you king of anything?_

The song was met with a greater response, as the Warblers again led the crowd in a standing ovation. There was many shouts of "I love you, baby!" and the like from the navy blue jacketed choir. Some of the girls on stage blew kisses back to their boyfriends. New Directions didn't hide their praise, but they all looked up and down the line, wondering if their songs could beat the Starlings'.

: : :

Finn was actually a little uncomfortable at how close Rachel and Quinn seemed to be. He really wanted to recreate the moment from the previous Regionals and tell Rachel to break a leg; she was theatrical enough to know to tell him "I love you" in response. But with Quinn hanging on her arm, it would be kind of awkward, and Finn knew he was awkward enough as it was.

A week ago, both Kurt and the pair of Rachel and Quinn had presented songs to the glee club. They were equally morose and beautiful, and the voting reflected that. Without Lauren to be the tie-breaker, the vote had split, so Mr. Schue had diplomatically decided to have the two songs mashed up.

Thus, there were three microphones on stage: two close together at stage left, and a single one at stage right. The paired microphones were bedazzled with jewels; the lone was silver-plated. Rachel, Quinn, and Kurt took their places, sending glances back and forth to wish each other luck. Brad, accompanied by a small orchestra, began the melody on piano. Kurt's voice started off the number. The boys filed in and assembled on the risers, swaying and clapping their hands against their legs.

_Some say you don't escape, you just get the boot  
Well, good riddance  
Some say you might lose your friends for it  
Hey, good riddance  
I say they weren't no friends to start with_

Rachel and Quinn sung in response, their song more melodic, alternating lines while the rest of the female members entered and swayed to the beat.

_It's time to be honest with each other  
There's no point in rewriting history  
The story always plays out the same  
There's never a happy ending_

The members singing backup moved to the center, joining together in dance.

_If the rules say you can't be happy  
__Break the rules, 'cause it gets better  
I__f you only have a bit of courage_

___Because we've all got something missing  
__In truth, loved and lost isn't better  
__No matter what we choose  
__We'll all be left with something missing_

As the song closed, Kurt looked out into the audience and noticed that Blaine was holding his hand to his heart. The moment was fleeting as he, Rachel, and Quinn had to run to the center of the stage, where they seamlessly joined the formation.

As the upbeat tempo began, New Directions sang their anthem, causing the audience to jump up in their seats almost immediately, with the obvious exception of Sue Sylvester.

_Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth  
So everyone can hear  
Hit me with the words you got and knock me down  
Baby, I don't care  
Keep it up, I'm tunin' up to fade you out  
You wanna be  
You wanna be  
A loser like me  
A loser like me_

The Warblers, led by Blaine, held up foam hands. When the song ended with New Directions throwing confetti from slushy cups in the audience, they were met with what sounded to them like the loudest applause all day.

: : :

The intermission held a terse, chilly atmosphere for the Warblers, who were getting the stink-eye from their girlfriends about their equally vocal support of New Directions. Thad was literally on his knees begging for forgiveness from Chloe. Wes seemed to be adeptly sweet-talking a shapely dirty blonde by the name of Miranda, while David only seemed able to rile up his girlfriend Liana, a tall girl with olive skin and dark curly hair.

"Looks like some of the guys are in the doghouse," Kurt mentioned to Blaine.

"Yeah, I'm probably going to get the brunt of it. I kind of led the New Directions support charge."

"I noticed," Kurt mentioned coyly.

"You know, it's only fair that if they get to support their girlfriends, I should be able to support my… uh…"

"I'm not your boyfriend, Blaine," Kurt remarked.

"I know, I know," Blaine rambled, trying to find his words. "Look, Kurt, the truth is… I've missed you at Dalton. It seems like I might have developed a little bit of a crush on you."

"Oh, really?" Kurt remarked, trying to play it cool, but failing. "I think you must have that turned around, because it's definitely supposed to be me with the crush on you."

Blaine let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Well, in that case, this turned out totally… awesome."

There was a long pause before Kurt suggested, "I suspect this may be the point at which we're supposed to set up some sort of casual get-together… a date, so to speak. A date."

"Yeah!" Blaine exclaimed, "I… completely suck at this. So, coffee at the Lima Bean next Saturday morning?"

"It's a date," Kurt agreed, "My treat."

"Nuh-uh!" Blaine refused, playfully proud, "I totally asked. It's _my_ treat."

"I'm pretty sure I'm the one who asked you out. You just chose the venue."

"Ergo, _I_ set up the date."

"Fine, how about this: you get the coffee, I get dinner. Breadstix, Saturday night?"

"Ooh, two dates in one day? Are you sure we're gay guys?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Kurt replied.

Several feet away, Santana was beaming with pride as she watched Kurt. "Oh, _pengüinito_, watch you get your flirt on." She wiggled her hips.

"I always figured he'd hook up with Jeff," a female voice remarked to Santana.

Santana found a brunette girl standing beside her in a navy Starling dress. "Not gonna happen," she replied, "My _nene_ has had his sights set on Blim for a while now. In necessary, I'd totally step in and cut a Nelly if it came to that."

"Lacey," the girl introduced herself.

"Santana."

"I heard you up there on stage. I gotta say, you could melt granite with that voice."

Suspiciously, Santana replied, "I didn't have a solo."

"I know, but I heard your runs. Chills." She rubbed her arms theatrically.

"Well, thank you," Santana replied tentatively.

"So, I know we're your competition and all, but seeing that the performances are done with…" Lacey took a breath to work up some courage. "…any chance I could buy you a coffee from the concession stand or—"

Before she could finish her question, Santana was pulled away by a flash of blond hair. Brittany possessively pressed her lips onto Santana's for several seconds before breaking the kiss and glowering over the Starling. "The mouse is full and I'm the PB&J."

Lacey's eyebrows twitched and Santana peeked around Brittany's shoulder. "I'm flattered, really, Lacey, but… taken." She tilted her head at Brittany.

Lacey just shrugged. "Eh, not surprised. You're the whole package." To Brittany, she noted, "Keep a tight hold on this one."

Brittany, her rage dissipating, remarked, "Oh, I am, see?" She indicated her tight hold on Santana's arm.

"Speaking of which," Santana said, "I'm about to bruise here. There we go," she stated as she peeled Brittany's hands off. "Love you."

After Lacey had walked off, Brittany guiltily turned to Santana. "Uh, so, sorry, I was kind of angry lioness back there."

"Mmm," Santana purred, wrapping her arms around Brittany's neck, "I like that image. How about we celebrate our win with a little game of Lioness Gets Her Prey at your place tonight?"

A decidedly innocent joy popped out of Brittany. "Charity likes that game. She brings me back moths and drops them on my hairbrushes."

Santana giggled. Her eyes were drawn to Mercedes, who was being approached by one of the Warblers. The two began flirting.

"His name's Luke," Kurt noted after sneaking up on Santana and Brittany, "Quinn told me that Mercedes has had her eye on him for a while. She's got a real shot, too. He's got a soft spot for talented singers."

"Well, if love ain't blooming for all my homegirls. I take it you and Blim have evacuated the friends zone," Santana quipped, hip-checking Kurt, who blushed.

"I wonder where Coach is?" Brittany wondered, eyeing the lost-looking Aural Intensity choir.

: : :

Sue briskly entered the judging room with purpose.

Rod Remington remarked in his newscaster voice, "You can't be here, Sue. Coaches are not allowed."

"I'm going to ask you to refrain from talking to me like someone who the rules apply to. I have something to bring to your attention. William McKinley High's New Directions should be disqualified. The gay boy who sang a solo is not eligible for competition. He spent several months at Dalton Academy, a competing school, due to an expulsion from McKinley."

Rod Remington was the first to reply. "Actually, Sue, the handsome young coaches from that school already came to speak to us about the matter. The student in question was a member of New Directions when they competed for Sectionals. I would remember; I was there. The entire period in which he was enrolled at Dalton Academy, their choir had already been eliminated from competition."

Sister Mary Constance further explained, "Not to mention one of the coaches even brought us documents stating that the reasons for his dismissal were expunged for being, and I quote, 'a trivial misunderstanding'. If I'm not mistaken, those would be _your_ words, ma'am."

Tammy Jean Alberston noted, "I would have disqualified him for his deviant lifestyle alone myself, except our hands are tied. If there's one thing I believe in, it's the law—excluding the First Amendment for minority groups, of course. The rules clearly state he's eligible." She held up a blue book that Sue was very familiar with: _The Show Choir Rule Book_. "He even provided us with the literature."

"I will not go down without a fight."

Sister Mary Constance noted, "Now that you're here, we do have something we would like to discuss. We've now established that you are the same Susan Roosevelt Sylvester who is currently the principal of McKinley High School, have we not?"

Through clenched teeth and across a pointing finger, Sue raged, "Don't you dare accuse me of being biased against New Directions!"

"It's actually the opposite we're worried about. We could have let it slide if you didn't have managerial power over New Directions' director, but since you remain as principal, we're worried about you being biased against your own team. You have no previous experience in any arts program."

Almost instantly, Sue noted matter-of-factly, "I was briefly co-director of New Directions and remained as an advisor for _two months_. I have actively campaigned for McKinley's arts program; I even recruited their current coordinator two years ago."

"That makes us believe you'd be _more_ biased toward your own school," the nun replied.

"I despise Will Schuester, his little glee club, and show choir in general."

Rod pointed out, "Please, you're obviously lying to us, Sue. Holding two teaching positions, even if one of them is unpaid—"

Sue noted, mostly to herself, "I was not aware I wasn't getting paid for being the coach of Aural Intensity."

"—is paramount to tax fraud. You wouldn't dare risk that if you didn't desperately want to be a music teacher. I've seen your devotion to the education system myself. Don't think I haven't forgotten your little heartfelt speech from last year's Regionals. We applaud your passion for the arts, which is why we're so sorry that we'll have to disqualify your team. Better luck next year. Oh, and if you'd like to join Andrea and I for a game of Mexican Train Dominoes, you're always welcome. If you know what I mean."

"If you showed that level of subtly in your newscasts, perhaps the Lima public would be aware that the school superintendent is taking bribes from the soft drink companies." She adjusted her track suit and remarked to Albertson, "I'll have you know I voted for you."

Ignorant of her intentions, the politician thanked Sue, who stormed out the door.

Moments later, as she entered the lobby, the members of Aural Intensity crowed around her. "You're disqualified and effective immediately, I'm resigning."

The club captain exclaimed, "But Mr. Denham's still in a coma!"

Sue exited through the double doors without answering or looking back.

: : :

The following Monday, New Directions cheered as Will and Holly carried in the First Place trophy.

"So, congratulations to all of you guys. You rocked it so hard!" Holly growled, giving the fist of rock. When the cheering died down again, she announced, "I do believe Mr. Schue has something he wants to say."

"Thank you, Ms. Holliday," Will noted regally.

"Seriously, do you guys call each other that in bed, because that's kind of lame," Puck commented, and then added, "or hot."

Holly playfully averted her eyes and covered her lips with her hand.

Will cleared his throat and stated, "Now, we all know that winning Regionals was a team effort, and Nationals isn't going to be any different, but like in sports, every winning team has a player that rises above to help carry their teammates to victory: the MVP, and I would like to start a tradition of honoring that player after every one of our competitions. So per a nearly unanimous vote by all of you, our 2011 Regionals MVP is… Miss Santana Lopez."

Santana was caught off-guard. According to her dream the previous night, Rachel was supposed to win. "What? No. Berry's supposed to win. She's the one who lives and breathes glee."

"Don't downplay your role, Santana. Your teammates obviously recognize your efforts," Will remarked.

"It was your suggestions that won us Sectionals," Mike pointed out.

Kurt added, "You kept Karofsky off my back. I swear I would have quit school if you hadn't put a muzzle on him."

"Not to mention all the relationship fairy dust you sprinkle around to keep us all from breaking up before competitions. Most of us," Mercedes pointed out, as Puck bowed his head ruefully. "Don't try to deny it, sugar."

"Brittany and I would've quit glee if it wasn't for you," Quinn noted.

Santana continued to balk. "Look, I know I've done some things to help out this club, but I wasn't the one with solos. It was Rachel. I voted for her, and that should tell you something."

Rachel replied, "Well, I voted for you, so that should _really_ tell you something. Santana, you may try, but you suck at hiding it: you love glee, probably just as much as me. You love to sing as much as me. You love to dance as much as me. And you sure do love to win as much as me. My pride aside, which we all know is a small miracle…" This comment was met with polite laughter. "…you're better at saving New Directions from itself than I could ever hope to be, because you think about others instead of just yourself. Now go claim that award before I decide to steal it, because, as you know, gold stars are kinda my thing."

"Come on up," Will coaxed.

With a shove from Brittany, Santana got up from her seat and collected the award.

"Congratulations, Sweet Cheeks," Holly added.

"You wanna say something?" Will whispered.

Santana nodded and cleared her throat, trying to force any moisture from her eyes. "Dammit, I'm not crying. Santana Lopez does not cry. Ever." The club loudly laughed at this statement. "Screw you all." She wiped a tear from her eye. "So, uh… thank you. I still say Rachel deserves half a dozen of these, so someone should get on that." She stared at the trophy as she collected her thoughts. "So, recently, I've becoming really sucky at lying," she began but trailed off. "You know, until a year ago, I didn't have many friends. I had one." She locked eyes with Brittany and made a heart with her hands, which Brittany returned with a big smile. "And a couple of others who could have been friends if I weren't just using them for popularity." Puck and Quinn, who were seated next to each other, smiled at her, briefly catching each other's eye to confirm their suspicions. "And the rest of you I was just… _awful_ to. But now I consider you all my friends, and I pray at least a few of you feel the same, even though I'm still not sure I deserve that, and even though I'm still not sure I'm not going to try to deny it someday. Someone, someone really smart, recently told me that we were like a little family. All I've ever wanted was to feel accepted and to feel loved and, um, and I wanted to thank you guys again for giving me that. _God_, I am such a frickin' _sap_." Santana took a moment to compose herself. "You guys rock. Now I can see some of you itchin' for a group hug, so you might as well get up here before I lose the last of my badass rep by bawling like a baby in front of you all." There was a near stampede as the glee club raced toward her. Brittany was giving the honor of being the closest, laying a peck on her lips before wrapped her arms around Santana's neck. Soon, she was nearly smothered by all the arms embracing her.

* * *

A/N: So, one, I apologize for subjecting you to more of my deficient songwriting. I figured that a couple of choruses wouldn't hurt. Hopefully, you get the gist of the songs.

And to all my Faberrittana followers, I gave you some Faberry interaction. I know that entire Rachel/Quinn speech echoed heavily with conversations in "New York" but I assure you it was written weeks beforehand. That super-subtle hint at "Born This Way" was coincidental, too.

Anyway, I'm setting up a number of plotlines for the future. I know I kind of dismissed Lauren Zizes. It's not a case of not liking her character; it's more about not knowing how to write her and her relationship with Puck. I do have one more mini-plot arc for her, and a role for Volume 3. (Yes, a Volume 3 is in the works.) Ironically, that scene I wrote for her, which was really meant to be filler, actually made me appreciate her character for the first time. Oh, well.

You'll notice I gave Aural Intensity another song, because "Jesus Is a Friend of Mine", while it can absolutely count as an anthem, wouldn't cut it as a ballad, and there's no reason why they shouldn't have a second song like everyone else. Since Christian songs are my tunes and the show never does them, I took the opportunity to give them Casting Crowns' "Does Anybody Hear Her". It has very touching lyrics, though I suspect the meaning was lost on Sue, who would have just Googled popular Christian ballads. I love the band, so I kind of hate that I had to give it to the enemy, but it works out in the end. Casting Crowns has the Baptist slant that would appeal to Tammy Jean Albertson's conservative sensibilities.

So, I learned something when I was trolling for the Thad's canon surname. All you Gleeks are _obsessed_ with making every-freakin'-body from Dalton gay. It's _terrifying_. I can understand Jeff; that boy ain't hiding nothing. But I hope I'm not stepping on any toes when I claim that most of them ought to be straight. Is this CP Coulter's fault? I haven't read her fic.

On that subject, I went through the trouble of casting some of the Starlings:

Chloe Mackenzie, the captain, is played by Ashley Jackson, the actress who appeared in "Sexy" as a nameless Crawford student.

Paige Preston is played by Lynnea Malley, the YouTube sensation behind "The Facebook Song". She sang Katy Perry's "Thinking of You."

Ezra, the second lead who sang the anthem, is played by Emily Marie Miller, another YouTube personality under the screenname **accompelling**. She's actually done a one-woman _a cappella_ cover of Sara Bareilles' "King of Anything", so you can get a feel for what the song would have been like.

Lacey, the girl who hits on Santana, is played by Jenna Anne Kroff (**JennaAnne1026**), another YouTube singer.

In addition, I have a whole host of lady singers I selected from YouTube, many of them who tried out for _Glee_. If I ever get a bee in my bonnet to write a Crawford Country Day Starlings spinoff, I've got my casting pool.

The "I love you" hand gesture is inspired by the gesture Naya and Heather have been throwing at each other during the Glee Live Tour.

And to close, a funny story: I had no idea what possessed me to throw in that unexplained Ann Arbor joke. Anyway, five points to whoever can correctly identify the meta reason why it's funny in retrospect.


	21. Benefit

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 21  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. If New Directions expect to win Nationals, they better be able to afford the trip.  
Spoilers: 2x17 "A Night of Neglect"

A/N: I'm not sure if I should be more excited to do a less-liked episode because it means I get to fix a lot of stuff, or if I should be terrified since it might not be as fun to write.

Also, if you read the previous chapter, you know I've already spoiled "New York", so from here on out, I'm just going to assume you're spoiled.

* * *

Chapter 21: Benefit

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Santana started having dreams about the future, but it's the future from the original timeline. Wow, that's gotta be confusing! She sees that New Directions loses Nationals. __**And**__ that she and Brittany are just friends. Bummer! That means she's got two items on her to-do list. But first, she's gotta make sure New Directions wins Regionals, so Santana helps Quinn and Rachel confront their issues. Quinn leads Rachel to wonder if Finn will follow her to Broadway: "Is he good enough for New York?" And Rachel makes Quinn question if she's really in love with Sam and why she never says Beth's name: "Because there's something in my life that's missing." So now they can write an awesome song about… "We'll all be left with something missing" which they mash up with Kurt's song about… "Break the rules, 'cause it gets better." New Directions is up against Aural Intensity—led by Sue Sylvester—and the Starlings, from Crawford Country Day, Dalton's sister school, who are kind of mean. The Warblers support the Starlings, mostly because it comprises their girlfriends, but Blaine gets them to support Kurt and New Direction too because… "I kind of developed a bit of a crush on you." So, Kurt CoBlaine is a go. What isn't a go is Santana and this Starling who totally hits on her. Brittany of course marks her territory: "Mouse is full and I'm the PB&J." Oh, Brittany, no wonder Santana loves you. Even Mercedes gets her flirt on with a Warbler, but didn't Santana set her up with Rajeesh? Anyway, Sue tries to get New Directions disqualified because of Kurt, but Will is one step ahead of her, and __**Sue**__ gets disqualified for being the principal of a rival school. Who didn't see that coming? Anyway, New Directions totally wins and they elect an MVP: "Miss Santana Lopez." Huh, that was a surprise. I hope Santana doesn't cry. "All I've ever wanted was to feel accepted and to feel loved and, um, and I wanted to thank you guys for giving me that. __**God**__, I am such a frickin' __**sap**__." Ah, well, I guess everyone does love Santana now. Whew, that was a lot to recap! And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

The curtain was closed and the auditorium, while dark, could be seen to contain exactly four audience members.

Tina Cohen-Chang walked out on stage and began to sing:

_Oh I beg you, can I follow  
Oh I ask you why not always  
Be the ocean where unravel  
Be my only, be the water and I'm wading  
You're my river running high, run deep run wild_

In response, the four audience members began to scream insults on stage, heckling the Asian girl. She got through the first verse and the chorus, but finally succumbed to embarrassment in the middle of the second verse.

The jeering faces of Sandy Ryerson, Azimio Adams, Jacob Ben Israel, and Becky Jackson were enough to wake Santana from her slumber. The first glow of the pre-dawn dimly illuminated the colorful room she'd been sleeping in, swaddled in long, creamy arms in a double bed.

Brittany slept through Santana slipping out of her arms, and through the rustling of Santana redressing in yesterday's clothes. But when Santana laid a kiss on her forehead, she roused from her slumber. "San?"

"I snuck out of my house last night, so I gotta get back before my mom wakes up. I'll see you at school."

Brittany snuggled back into her pillow, grabbing a stuffed animal—a horse or a unicorn or something that Santana couldn't quite make out in the dark—from her nightstand to spoon with.

Something about the action troubled Santana. The dream she'd had a couple weeks ago continued to haunt her memories. _"You're my best friend."_ Somehow, in the future, a different future perhaps, she and Brittany still hadn't broken out of their holding pattern. Even as strong as Santana considered her current relationship, she still feared its fragility. "Hey, B?" She received only a sleepy grunt in response. "I love you." Brittany answered back with what hopefully was a mumbled echo of the sentiment. "Brittany?"

Brittany rolled over, knowing she wasn't getting to go back to sleep quite yet. "Mm-hmm?"

"You'd tell me if it felt like I was pushing you away, right? 'Cuz I don't ever wanna do that."

Brittany nodded. "Um…"

_Oh God, I'm already doing it_, Santana thought.

"You, uh…" Brittany started, choosing every word carefully, "you're always scheming to do good things, and, um, I think it'd be fun if, you know, I did them with you. I wanna turn good deeds with you."

Santana giggled quietly in relief. "Absolutely," she told Brittany, "Batman has Robin, so Batwoman should definitely have her… whoever her partner is. Canary or whatever."

"Thank you," Brittany yawned, rolling onto her side, softly snoring seconds later.

As Santana crawled out of Brittany's window, she noticed Brittany's two cats—the grey monstrosity that was Lord Tubbington and the orange daredevil that was Charity—and her hyperactive, scuttling Pekinese pup Merry Cherry all sneak into the room and find a place on Brittany's bed. (They'd all learned that Santana was a sleep kicker.)

: : :

In his always-bright teacher voice, Will announced, "Alright, guys; Nationals is in less than two months. I've been doing some calculations…" Holly cleared her throat at that. "And Ms. Holliday has been correcting my calculations, and we don't have enough money in the budget to get to New York, so we're going to have to fundraise."

Puck raised his hand. "Money-saving tip: instead of separate rooms, we get one of those big-ass suites and all sleep _communally_."

"I'm not sure if that's a great idea, Puck. I'm pretty sure the school rules state that any off-site trip requires gender separation of students."

Holly considered the prospect. "I don't know, Will. If the chaperones are in the room with them, it's not like anyone can get into any funny business."

Quinn pointed out, "And it's not like there aren't certain people in this room that splitting us up by boys and girls wouldn't really prevent anything."

Santana slowly extracted her legs from Brittany's lap.

"We're going to have a 'Night of Neglect'," Holly announced, "We'll be performing songs by artist who don't get the recognition they should."

"How are we going to get anyone to come?" Tina asked, "We're still total pariahs."

Mercedes wondered aloud, "Rachel, don't you got two gay dads who support you with a devotion that rivals certain ancient religions? My folks got a dentistry association dinner that night, but some of y'all _got_ to have 'rents willing to show up."

"I've still got my mom on a post-abandonment guilt trip," Quinn offered.

Mike suggested, "I'll invite my mom, but someone's gotta make sure she and Tina's parents don't cross paths, because she's not going to be happy when they don't respond to her in Mandarin."

"And if my mom starts dropping Yiddish, it's over," Tina explained.

Puck's head turned and started to give Tina a hungry gaze.

"Dude," Mike warned as Puck's eyes roamed his girl.

"Sorry, bro. Reflex," Puck gave as an apology.

Artie offered, "Now that Genevieve's my girlfriend, I can get her to come. Maybe some of the drama kids will follow her." He hazarded a glance to Brittany, who was smiling at the news, which didn't help his disposition.

Mercedes pointed out, "In that case, I'm inviting Raj. I wonder if he can get his soccer buddies to come." She hummed appreciatively.

Santana mentioned, "Brad and I are tight. I know he's playing for us, but I could convince him to buy a ticket. It's not like he can't make up the four dollars busking in front of the library."

"Santana, maybe you should invite _Faith_," Rachel hinted, tilting her head toward Puck.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brittany grumbled under her breath.

Santana lowered her eyebrows and whispered under her breath, "Ever since Zizes dumped Puck's ass—which will never not be funny—he's been trolling for fresh meat. And since all the girls in glee are in relationships, he needs something to distract him from hitting on us." At this point, Puck's eyes instinctively kept moving toward Tina until Mike puffed up and glared at him.

"Oh," Brittany replied sheepishly.

"You're such a Jealous Jenny, aren't you? You're not going to start deleting girls' names from my phone, are you?"

"I don't even know how to change the picture on my screen." She showed Santana her phone. Whatever her wallpaper was caused Santana's eyes to shoot open. She snatched the phone and hurriedly mashed buttons while draping her shoulders in order to shield the view from anyone else in the room. Luckily for her, the after-school bell rang and the rest of the club filed out of the room.

Once they were in the hallway, Tina grabbed Artie. "Wow, so one date with this girl and she's already your girlfriend?"

"I really thought we were over this, Tina, this jealousy thing."

Tina crossed her arms in defiance. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back it up. You're the one bringing our past relationship into this. I'm happy with Mike. But I'm beginning to suspect that our being friends is contingent on you having a girlfriend."

"It does make it easier," Artie admitted, "Mike's cool with me, but it's not like having someone on my arm doesn't distract me from the fact he stole my girlfriend."

Tina huffed. "So that's what Brittany was? A distraction?"

Artie all but growled, "What Brittany and I had was real, okay? Maybe it started out kind of sketchy, but… I did love her. That doesn't mean she didn't allow me to forget about what _we_ had."

With honest sympathy, Tina said, "That's kind of sad, Artie. I've never for a moment forgotten what we had. You were my first best friend. My first boyfriend. The first boy I ever kissed. The first boy I ever loved. And you were the first boy who I ever cried about losing."

Unmoved, Artie pointed out, "You dumped me."

"That doesn't mean I don't regret it a little bit, regret hurting you. Before we ever started dating, you were my friend, and that's something Mike and I will never have. I hope this Genevieve girl is the real thing, because if she makes you happy, I want us all to be friends."

Artie looked conflicted as Tina walked away, laying a hand on his shoulder as she passed by him.

: : :

Sue sat in the principal's office with three people in front of her: the comely Vocal Adrenaline coach Dustin Goolsby, the effeminate arts director Sandy Ryerson, and the shapely cheerleading coach Terri Delmonico.

Terri was the first to speak. "Okay, seriously, Sue, it's not like I'm not in the market for a new hobby, but since your prize mares jumped the fence and the Cheerios got disqualified from competition, Figgins has been on my ass about the Cheerios having time to cheer for all the sports teams. McKinley has a surprising number, given the number of fat kids I see waddling down the hallways. We've got a soccer team on Saturday and a decathlon competition on Sunday, and one of the kids on that team is in a wheelchair, and I don't know even know how that works."

Sue replied glibly, "Sorry, Honey Badger, I wasn't paying attention."

Dustin's hand shot out, holding out an inquisitive finger. "Question: If you're the _principal_ of the school, why can't you just revoke the club's charter? I know for a fact that Vocal Adrenaline is the only glee club in the state which has been privately incorporated."

Sue's eyebrows lowered. "Are you questioning my methods?"

Dustin looked around. "What's stopping me? Unlike these two, I don't work for you."

Sandy jumped in, "Point of information: in my capacity as Arts Director, I report to the school board."

Sue noted maliciously, "Yes, but in your capacity as the acting drama teacher, you report to the woman who could expel that mentally unstable Oompa-Loompa you give all the lead roles to."

"No, not Genny! She won't survive in the outside world!"

Sue turned back to Dustin. "Do not concern yourself with the details, Sergeant Handsome. I want you to go after this." She handed him a picture of Holly Holliday.

Dustin surveyed the picture with lust. "Done." Terri grabbed the photo and glared at it. She then pulled a ballpoint from her purse.

Sue directed her attention to Sandy. "Roseanne, the glee club is holding a little fundraising concert this weekend. I need for it to be a rousing failure."

"Oh, please, Sue, I know all about failures," Sandy remarked. Terri and Dustin struggled to contain laughter, exchanging significant looks. "Come on; obviously that wasn't what I meant. And…" he eyed Terri glaringly, "…I called dibs on this one."

"Back up," Dustin remarked inquisitively.

Sue interrupted the interaction. "Listen, Prince Charming, you've got another bit of homework. Word on the street is that your little Malaysian bumblebee is extending an olive branch in the form of a song at New Directions' little money-making event."

Dustin tapped his Bluetooth earpiece. "That's news to me. Consider her leashed. I've even got the collar."

"Ooh," Sandy squealed, "is it pink and sparkly?"

"Actually, yes," Dustin admitted thoughtfully.

"I bet it is," Sandy noted merrily, "I bet it is."

: : :

Santana stood like a general before the front row of the auditorium, where Puck, Quinn, Brittany, Mercedes, and Rachel were seated. "Okay, here's the deal: I have a goal and that goal is for New Directions to win Nationals this year."

"That's everyone in glee's goal," Rachel pointed out.

"Pardon me; big people are talking. Anyway, my sources tell me that Principal Sylvester is trying to sabotage the Night of Neglect. So I formed this League of Badassery to counter her attempts."

Puck held up his hand. "Can I just say…? I approve of that name."

"I figured you would," Santana remarked dryly, "I've got assignments for all of you. First order of business: attendance. That cricket Sunshine Corazón's got an impressive voice and more importantly, those six-hundred Twitter followers who we need attending this concert. I have a sneaking suspicion she's gonna bail. Puckerman, what are you going to do about it?"

"Maybe we should kidnap her," Puck suggested. He grinned showily and turned his head to look back into the audience.

"Were you just looking for Ms. Holliday for a reaction? Seriously, you've _got_ to stop that."

"My eyes are drawn to MILFs." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"She doesn't have any kids."

Brittany wondered aloud, "I think she could be my mom."

Santana grinned. "Sweetie, you have a mom, who looks even more like you than Ms. H." Brittany nodded, satisfied with the explanation. Santana turned back to Puck. "Let's do it."

Puck took a moment to comprehend her suggestion. "Wait, really?

"Yeah. I figure you probably needed a pick-me-up, anyway. I'm not being nice. The fact that you're moping over losing Jabba the Mutt is fifty types of depressing. So, here's the plan, morning before the show, me, Puckerman, Finny Two-Left-Feet, and the Mute Asian Sensation are going on a covert mission."

"Who's the Mutation Sensation?" Mercedes wondered.

"Mute Asian," Santana pronounced before shaking her head in disgust. "Mike, it's Mike, okay? Puck, me, Finn, and Mike."

"What about the rest of us?" Rachel asked.

"I have intel that indicates that Sue has assigned Sandy Ryerson to lead a group of hecklers at the show to dampen our spirits or something. They will all need to be eliminated."

"I hope you're not suggesting we _kill_ them?"

"Not that I don't think any of them deserve it, but no. First target: Jacob Ben Israel."

Rachel scowled. "Is that why I'm here? Because I refuse to use my admittedly abundant sexual appeal to entice his compliance against his agenda of vocal discouragement."

Santana glared at Rachel; as if she were placating a selfish toddler, she announced, "Okay, we'll start with you, Strawberry Shortcake. Actually, I want you to go against the ringleader herself: Sandy Ryerson. He has a flair for the theatrical that you can relate to. Find some way to compromise him."

Rachel's suggestion came immediately. "I'm remind of how when he was directing _Caberet_, he saw fit to write himself a part as Cleopatra. I could offer him a number in the concert."

"_I want to do 'One Night in Bangkok' by Murray Head," Sandy regally demanded. _

"_Done," Rachel replied without lifting an eyebrow, scribbling on a clipboard. _

"_**And**__ I want two minutes to introduce myself and the reasons why I have selected the song." _

"_Denied. Absolutely not." _

"_One minute," he haggled. _

"_No, we've got a full night and we're booked solid." _

_Sandy sighed. "Fine. One more stipulation: I can't explain why for legal reasons, but I will probably be very hungry at various points during the night. What is the spread going to look like?" Rachel handed him Mercedes' food demand list. "Oh, wow, this is better than what I could hope for. Is there any chance I can append this to add fry sauce for the tater tots?" _

_Rachel handed him a pen, which he took and scribbled on the list. "I assume I'll be getting a quality spot?" _

"_Yes, you'll be the lead-in to our selection of closing numbers."_

A shrug was Santana's only response. "Fine, I like it. Make it near the end though. I don't want to scare away our audience."

"Understood."

The Latina turned toward her blond former rival. "Q, I'm putting you up against Azimio."

Quinn's eyebrow arched. "What do you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to tell him about the provocative number you, Brittany, and I will be performing. Let's just say our costumes will be dependent on his behavior, if you catch my drift."

Quinn smiled. "I think I can handle that."

"_Every inch of Brittany's legs will on display; Santana __**will not**__ miss the opportunity show off her new additions, and as for me, I just love those backless dresses with thigh-high slits… also, you get your teammates to come, Santana will go braless." _

With something resembling pride, Santana complimented her, "I knew there was a reason you were my number two."

"Excuse me?"

Santana didn't let the conversation continue. "Moving on… Mercedes, I'm putting you in charge of Jacob Ben Israel."

"Why?"

"Because he's a gossip blogger and you're a gossipmonger. Prepare ten blind items about the glee club."

"_I'll need proof," the bespectacled student insisted. _

_Mercedes opened an envelope and handed Jacob a slip of paper. _

"'_What two McKinley Titan football starters recently locked lips during a game of spin-the-bottle?'" Jacob read. _

"_Ooh, I can confirm that one." _

_Jacob was salivating, reaching for the envelope, which Mercedes held back. _

"_You will be getting this at the end of the concert __**if**_… _if there ain't a single mouth-off from you. Also, bring eight of your newspaper buddies and I'll throw in a set of five pictures of Santana and Brittany engaged in heavy petting." _

"_R-rated?" _

"_Hard PG-13." _

_"That's only worth five." _

"_Deal."_

"Finally," Santana noted to her girlfriend, "Brittany, I need you on Becky Jackson. Make sure to remind her of what the puppets on Sesame Street have to say about being a meanie. If you need more leverage, entice her with this box of Dots."

"Got it, Sky Captain," Brittany replied, saluting with the box of candy.

Puck chuckled. "Is that one of your sexy roleplaying games?"

"Yes," Santana noted plainly. "And for that little tidbit, you'll be flirting with the flag squad to get them to attend."

He was unfazed. "Fair enough."

Santana took control of the discussion one final time. "Alright, any questions?"

Brittany raised her hand. Through a mouthful of candy, she apologized, "I accidentally started eating the Dots. Am I in trouble?"

"No, I expected that, so go ahead and enjoy 'em, but if you get a tummy-ache, it's your own fault that you miss out on snuggles tonight. I'll get you another box the night of."

Rachel raised her hand and, without being called on, asked, "Do we have some kind of team cheer?"

Santana shrugged her shoulders. "Not yet, but write one and we'll vote on it at the next League meeting."

"When will that be? I'll need adequate time to prepare. What if it involves props or costumes?"

"You ask too many questions."

: : :

"Go, Titans, go! Go, Titans, go!" the Cheerios called out at the soccer game between the McKinley Titans and the Frankel Messengers. Terri Delmonico watched passionlessly on the sidelines.

Meanwhile, on the field, Coach Beiste screamed at her players. "Let's see some hustle, guys! Show me some touchdowns! I haven't seen a single tackle all day! What's wrong with you idiots?"

Terri wandered over. "How do you think my girls are doing?"

"Don't care, Blondie."

"I get that," Terri replied, undaunted. "Do you know how to play soccer?"

"How hard can it be? Those Brits based it on football. I hear they even still call it that over there." Suddenly, she screamed out to the field, "Come on, Koothrappali, get your team in order!"

Raj looked back at his coach. "It's Srinivasan, and McCauley is the captain!"

Meanwhile in the stands, Mercedes and Tina sat side-by-side in the bleachers, screaming support for their boyfriends. "Go, Raj!" Raj waved at her cheer, and one of the forwards from Frankel slipped back and scored a goal past Mike Chang, taking the score up to Frankel 26-McKinley 22.

One row down, Zira Phillips was in hysterics, screaming, her accent much thicker than usual. "Bend it! Kick the arses of those wankers! We do what we want! We do what we want! You blooming barmpots! Criminy, you Yanks don't know 'ow to play football! This ain't 'ow the game works!" She threw her head into her hands, mumbling obscenities to herself. Mercedes looked down, unimpressed.

Down in the front row, Principal Figgins proudly cheered for the team, holding up a red foam broadsword. A blonde, Caucasian, middle-aged woman sat down next to him. "Mr. Figgins! I didn't know your son attended this school. He's playing very well."

"He's not my son."

"Oh, dear, my deepest apologies."

"It's alright," he replied, turning his head so that he could mutter, "Racist _gori_."

A middle-aged woman of Indian descent sat down on his other side. "_Agraj_, how is your nephew playing?"

"Very well, Amita," Figgins replied, "you have a very talented boy."

The game went into halftime. Meanwhile in the stands, Zira attempted to screen about how the clock had stopped, but was finding herself too exhausted to reach a reasonable decibel level. Mercedes and Tina seemed pleased.

Ajax, McKinley's Greek warrior mascot danced on field with the Cheerios, but was attacked midway through a cheer by Frankel's mascot, Merc, dressed in Greco-Roman robes and a pair of winged shoes. His foam sword caused very little damage and Merc's plastic caduceus broke after the third strike against Ajax's helmet.

: : :

Santana was searching through her locker while Brittany tried the combination on her lock for the third time, singing yet another nursery rhyme, her eyebrows lowered in concentration. When Santana noticed Faith out of the corner of her eye, she pulled Brittany's already-unlatched lock off her locker, kissed her on the cheek, and walked off.

"Loretta, you free Friday night?"

Faith pushed her blond hair out of her face, flustered. "What?"

"Glee's putting on a benefit concert so we can actually get to New York without having to hitchhike. You should come."

"I, um…"

"Let me put this another way; unless your grandmother died and is going to Third Heaven, you're not skipping out so you can play Farmville. I'm very fickle and I think you strangely enjoy being my friend—I guess you're a masochist; don't worry, I'm not judging."

"I'll come, alright? You're lucky my Friday was free," Faith replied, trying to regain an ounce of dignity.

"Glad we worked this out." She winked and gave Faith a two-fingered salute before returning to her locker to threaten the boy in a soccer jersey who was trying to hit on Brittany.

Faith pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed. "Hey, Daniel, it's Faith… Yeah, I guess you would know who's calling since we're on cell phones… I guess I'm just out of it today…" She laughed self-deprecatingly. "Listen, I don't think Friday night's gonna work… I just... I forgot I had something planned for that night… I know we were going to talk about us… No, no, we'll find some time to…" Faith muttered off as she realized she was talking to a dead line, "…talk about this again." She slammed her locker shut. "Way to go, Jennings. Your nice, handsome ex-boyfriend tries to get back together with you and you blow him off. You could have just moved your date to Saturday. Or you could have invited him to the show so that he wouldn't be pissed at you, _and_ Santana would have one more person at her fundraiser." She turned back to her locker just in time to see Puck lean against the adjacent locker and give her the once-over. "Hello… Noah? Or Puck, I guess it is?"

With a voice dripping with allure, he whispered, "So, word on the street is that you've got a bit of a jonesin' for the Puckasaurus. I hear you're from Tennessee. It's appropriate, because you're definitely a _10_ from what I can _see_."

Faith stared at him for a moment. "Utah. I'm from Utah."

Puck didn't pause for a second. "Well, in that case, U-ought-tah go out with me."

Faith's eye caught Santana kissing Brittany's nose. "Sure."

"Wednesday night it is. Seven o'clock? Meet ya there." Without waiting for an answer, he winked and walked away.

Squinting her eyes with frustration, she muttered, "What just happened?"

: : :

Sam was lying on a teacher's desk. Through pained coughs, he called out, "Tell my girl I love her! And tell the boys down at the base to keep holding on!" And with that, he exhaled one last time.

"Well, thank you for that, Mr. Evans," Ms. Holliday, dressed in hospital scrubs, remarked, "but I liked to point out that very few people die of a broken arm." Sam hopped up off the desk, his left armed bound in a sling just as the bell was ringing. "Okay, _clase_, I'll see you tomorrow and we'll be discussing how to treat necrotizing fasciitis. Word of advice, eat a small lunch."

After all the students had exited the room, she saw a tall man in all black leaning against her doorframe. "Dustin Goolsby, coach of Vocal Adrenaline."

"Oh, yes, our competition at Nationals. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine. Let me cut to the sexy chase. I was doing some mental math back there and I'm concerned about your reproductive health. I was thinking maybe we could test that out. I would happily volunteer my services. I'll have you know I have thirty-five unwanted pregnancies under my belt. Pun intended."

"Wow, medical pickup lines. I'm just happy you skipped the obvious bone joke."

Dustin turned to the side and flipped through a stack of index cards, throwing out the third one. "So, what do you say?"

"I'm flattered; I really am. Something about jerkish guys really gets my motor going."

"Well, you're in luck, not only am I easy, but I'm also quick to jump into bed, and I'm sexually liberal. Also, very promiscuous."

"Lucky me. Well, I'm an old-fashioned girl, and I need at least half of a date before we get to the fun stuff in any semi-secluded room. So, why don't you meet me at Breadstix tonight?"

"Hmm, I don't do Italian food. Dated an Italian lady once; ruined it for me."

"Oh, we won't be going in. The red glow of the marquee sign is just so romantic through the windshield of your car. We'll get a couple of Big Macs after."

"In that case, count me in," Dustin remarked with a wink.

After the coach was gone, Holly was startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Will wandered into the room. "So, is this the part of the conversation where you tell me that wasn't what it looked like?"

Holly regained her poise and replied, "No, that was exactly what it looked like. That was me blowing off our sleazy archrival by promising to meet him in the parking lot of a restaurant which is inside of a mall. C'mon, _Ricosuave_, you really think I'm going to cheat on your at our mutual workplace?"

"No, I guess not. I just…"

"You just thought, _hey, my girlfriend's kind of a commitment-phobe._ Well, you're right."

"What?"

"What just happened back there? I enjoyed it. The flirting. It's what I do and I'm good at it. And I justify it to myself by saying, _hey, he's got the guidance counselor to flirt with. It's only fair._"

"You know that I've made heavy strides to getting over Emma."

"I know. And this is not a response to me thinking that you _are_ flirting with her. I'm just being insecure." When she noticed Will was still huffy, she added, "I'm not really into him, Will, okay? I've spent the last ten years of my life knowing whether I'm going home with someone. And it's no different now, except I know who that guy is." She took hold of the labels of his vest. "I'm coming home with you tonight. We're gonna stay in next Tuesday and make fun of _No Ordinary Family_. We're gonna have our dorky movie night this Thursday. I love what we have, but you gotta understand, I'm still doing this day-to-day, the only way I know how. And I appreciate how patient you've been with me as I figure out the steps to this dance. It's just, now that I'm doing the serious relationship thing, of course the old way seems easier."

"I guess what really makes me mad… is that there's no way to watch Goolsby getting angry about not being able to find Breadstix's parking lot."

Holly laughed, and pulled Will toward her so they could kiss. She tried to pull them further down, but he resisted. "I gotta ask, though, where do you get all these costumes?"

"I've got a closet full of them at my apartment."

"And yet we're always going back to _my_ place for the fun stuff."

: : :

"You have to kidnap me!" Sunshine screamed at the group of four teenagers.

"But you just said you'd do the show willingly," Santana noted.

"Mr. Goolsby will get me expelled, which will invalidate my student visa. My mom and I will get sent back to the Philippines!"

"Doesn't that seem harsh to you?" Santana asked.

Mike shrugged and put the burlap rice sack over Sunshine's head while Puck began to duct-tape the girl's wrists together.

"Couldn't we just have had her _say_ we kidnapped her?" Finn asked as he tightened the knot on the rope wrapped around Sunshine's ankles.

"Too late now," Santana remarked as they loaded the girl into the trunk. "Good thing she's a runt. Any larger and she wouldn't have fit into my trunk." She slapped the lid. "Come on, guys, it's a three-hour trip."

"Then why'd it only take us two and half?" Mike asked.

"Did you not notice her driving?" Puck asked.

Confused, Mike replied, "No, she drives just like my mom."

: : :

Breadstix Italian Bistro was busy that night. In one booth sat Mercedes Jones and Raj Srinivasan. The former was eating a chicken Caesar salad while Raj was putting away a family-sized serving of penne Bolognese.

"So, I hear you're in a band?" Mercedes ventured.

Raj smiled. "Oh, yeah, it's awesome. Mostly we're just covering Death Cab songs, but we're trying to write some original songs."

"How's that going?"

"Not great. Turns out it's harder than it looks."

"You're telling me. In glee, we wrote original songs for Regionals…"

"Hear you guys won," Raj interrupted.

"We sure did. But we didn't do my song, even though it was bitchingly good."

"I'd love to hear it."

Mercedes' phone buzzed. She apologized, saying it was probably her mom, and looked at the phone. Instead it was a text from "Luke" stating, "When we gonna hang out again?" She put it away.

"Who was it?"

"No one," Mercedes replied.

"No one," Artie replied to Genevieve in the next booth.

"Oh, come on, _plenty_ of people find success in film after being on stage. That's why so many greats actually head back to the stage. Jennifer Hudson has an Oscar and now you only see her on Broadway."

"Whoa, whoa, back up. When you're a _musical_ actor, your roles are limited. Of _course_ you'd go to the stage."

"Well, geez, if we're limiting it to straight plays, of course famous examples will be scarce."

"Do you want my opinion?"

"You know I'm morally opposed to rhetorical questions."

Artie sighed. "They've begun to film live performances of theater shows and playing them on the big screen. If anything, you should applaud how film allows theater to be presented to larger audiences."

"So now we're talking about the number of eyeballs?" Genevieve shot back.

"I don't care how many eyeballs there were!" Faith exclaimed, cringing.

"It's a great movie!" Puck replied, "And it's a _classic_ for the slasher genre. In fact, I'm taking you next weekend."

"Look, Noah… Puck… whatever I'm supposed to call you… there's been a mistake, okay? I don't, and never did, have a crush on you. And I don't want to go see a scary movie because I don't _like_ scary movies and I know you're just banking that my supposed naïveté means I'm going to cower in your arms at the jump scenes so that you can get in my pants."

"You can't blame me for taking advantage of the fact you're playing the blushing virgin role."

"You need to date a stupider breed of girl."

Puck continued to grin appetizingly. "You realize my last three girlfriends were the angry type, right? They also played hard to get. Well, two of them at least. You're not gonna brush me off your scent."

"I'm abstinent."

"Will you pardon me for a second?" Puck asked, slipping out of the booth.

Five seconds later, Santana slipped in. "He's not coming back."

Faith's reply came quickly. "He didn't even bother to walk in the direction of the restrooms. Where'd people get the idea I was into him?"

"I'm a pathological liar," Santana replied. After a moment, she added, "Sorry 'bout that. Maybe next time a dog barks up your tree, it'll be the one you want."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Faith replied too quickly and too suspiciously.

"I mean… it won't be Puck," Santana replied, confused.

Faith shook it off, "Yeah, you're right. In fact, I think my ex Daniel's into me again."

"At what point did it sound like I invited myself into sharing time?" Santana growled, but even her breath. "No, I'm a helpful person now. You may proceed to use me as a sounding board."

"Well, since you made a girl feel welcome," Faith teased, "We can talk about you." Santana smiled greedily at that. "Look, I don't want this to come off wrong, but I gotta ask about Brittany…" Faith started, testing the waters. Santana's smile disappeared and she tensed. "She's gorgeous, I'm not denying that. And she's sweet as molasses, but, I don't know, I find her kind of hard to talk to. She says a lot of random things. It's cute, but isn't it… frustrating?"

Santana hissed, "Look, I've known Brittany for years. The things she says aren't random. Everyone who isn't Brittany says things they don't mean. They hide their words behind that 'No offense, bless her heart' bullshit, or they throw out made up insults to make themselves feel better."

"I'm not saying these things to make myself feel better!"

"I know. The second part was about me."

"Oh… sorry. Go on."

"Brittany's open and honest. Yeah, her words get filtered through that unique brain of hers, but don't think she's just yammering for the heck of it."

Faith tilted her head down, as if finding her chicken piccata thrilling. "You really love her."

"Yeah."

"So, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"The benefit. You should bring people. We haven't filled the auditorium yet."

"For my new friend, sure."

: : :

Sue Sylvester was furious. The auditorium was more than half-filled and she'd heard nary a _boo_ from the entire crowd all night.

She watched Asian do a song by an artist who had to be imaginary judging by the name and then Other Asian just dance like a hyperactive mime. Then Schuester and his blond bimbo did a duet by that pudgy British chick about being each other's "one and only."

She did experience a brief tingling of what might have been pride when her former Cheerios performed a song by Beyoncé and the Destinies while using their cheerleading moves to get the football players to hoot and holler. They were singing about asphyxiating, which Sue found appropriately since she wanted to suffocate them.

During the intermission, she attempted to track down the Pink Dagger, only to finally find him when the show restarted and he sang "One Night in Bangkok" on stage wearing a pink ensemble.

: : :

Kurt was trying not to get caught staring at Blaine's hand, which was dangling by his side. After several attempts to reach out and grab it, Kurt give up and simply allowed his trembling hand to hang listlessly. "So, thanks for coming to watch."

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine casually replied, "I may be the head of the Warblers, but you know I don't hold any ill will for you guys beating us at Sectionals. It was a close race, and I have the utmost respect for other talented groups. Plus, qualifying for Nationals in your second year? That's crazy awesome."

"So… I thought our dates went well," Kurt ventured.

Blaine thoughtlessly grabbed Kurt's hand. He just barely kept his excitement from bubbling up as his boyfriend answered, "I'd say they went pretty darn good. Too bad you're not still at Dalton, because then this would count as our third date, and you know what they say about third dates."

Kurt's eyes bugged, but he turned his head in time so Blaine couldn't see. "What's that?" he replied, his voice higher than he would have liked.

Blaine bumped his hip against Kurt's leg, "It means we have to agree to stay friends or make it official. And based on past experience, I'd definitely think we'd agree to the latter. One caveat, though…"

"What's that?" Kurt squeaked again.

"We'd have to seal it with a kiss."

"I'd like that," Kurt answered, "Kissing, I mean."

"In that case…" Blaine pulled at Kurt's arm, whipping them face-to-face, and laying his hand on Kurt's cheek, "you'd better ask me out again."

"The Boys & Girls Club is putting on a showing of _A Streetcar Named Desire_ next weekend."

"It's a date."

"Good, because I'm kind of looking forward to overwriting my _first_ first kiss."

Kurt felt Blaine's arm against his chest. "Speak of the devil."

He looked up and noticed Dave Karofsky milling about. When he caught sight of them, he threw something away. It looked like the program from the night's show.

"What are you doing here, Meathead?"

"A bunch of the football guys came to watch Fabray and Lopez and… Brittany sing some hot girl song. I know the last two are total rugmunchers for each other, but they're still hot."

"Please, we know you have no interest in what they've got," Blaine said judgmentally.

"You don't know nothing about what I like!" Karofsky hissed, storming up to the pair.

"Hey, watch it!" Kurt screamed, "You lay one finger on me and I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life scrubbing excrement off the floor of park restrooms!"

"If I touch _you_," Karofsky pointed out, "I won't get in trouble for laying a finger on Peter Pan boyfriend." He poked Blaine in the shoulder, causing him to lunge forward, but never made contact on account of Karofsky taking a graceful step backwards and Kurt grabbing him from behind.

"And they say I have anger management problems," Karofsky teased, "It would be to your benefit you to just leave me be. I don't want any trouble."

: : :

Rachel was heading to the stage to sing "How" by Lisa Loeb when it became apparent that Mercedes wasn't ready to follow.

It was Lauren who explained that Mercedes was feeling underappreciated and a diva like her couldn't perform if she wasn't properly spoiled.

One look from Brittany told Santana (and a second one from Brad) the duty of getting her on stage was about to fall on her, so she scrambled into the parking lot, thankful she'd already performed, as it was pouring down rain.

She banged on the door, but when it didn't unlock, she pulled a hair pin from her weave and popped the lock.

"So, 'Cedes, there ain't no way you're not singing 'Ain't No Way' in exactly five minutes. This ain't no time to be divain' out."

"I'm not 'divain' out.' I'm panicking."

"Don't tell me you're doubting your voice. I seem to recall a pretty epic Tina Turner duet we did not too long ago."

"When did we do a Tina Turner duet?"

_Crap_. "In your dreams. Look, you've got killer pipes. You'll bring the house down. Roses will be thrown. Applause will be given. Boys will line up from some of your sugar."

"_That's_the problem." After a moment, she confessed, "I'm juggling two guys right now."

Santana nodded her head in approval. "I'm impressed, Wheezy. You make me pine for the good ole days."

"Wait, are you saying you used to _like_ guys?"

Santana shrugged. "I liked playing with them. Just because a cat likes to play with a ball of yard doesn't mean it wants to eat it." She pulled down the visor and checked her makeup in the vanity mirror. Some of her lipstick had rubbed off and she knew exactly where it went.

"Cat metaphors?"

"My girl has cats. They're total cockblocks." She flipped up the visor.

"Can you please help me out here, Satan?"

Santana opened her door and pushed Mercedes towards hers. "Follow me." They raced inside and when Mercedes caught up—like a good girl, Santana refrained from making a quip about speed—the Latina had already opened her locker and had a binder in hand. "_Puck's Guide to Promiscuity_. I wrote the preface." There was clip art on the front of a tuxedo-clad man hitting on a well-dressed woman while another lady stood on the other side of a wall.

"I didn't realize you had a _guidebook_ for this kind of thing."

"It was a project in that dumb speech and communication easy-A class. Keep it. I've joined the ranks of monogamy," Santana explained without a lot of joy.

"You seem disappointed."

Santana brushed it off. "Casual dating's a rush. But being a romantic has its perks." _Sap_, she thought, hugging herself.

Mercedes leafed through the binder. "I didn't say I wanted this, you know, juggling both of them."

"Then why'd you come to me?"

"I thought we were friends now. I figured you could offer me advice."

"Good point." Santana pulled the binder away from Mercedes' eyes. "Take it from a reformed expert on the subject; you'll hurt both of them if you're sloppy about this. Play the field a little bit and _then _decide which one you want, and then let the unlucky bastard off easy."

"This feels dirty," Mercedes replied, still dubious.

"It can be," Santana teased. "Now, you've got exactly thirty seconds to go on stage or we're sending the wiggly-armed flea in your place."

: : :

Sue endured both Aretha's Aretha number and then Vocal Adrenaline's Lil Miss Saigon singing the loner song. She decided that if Sergeant Handsome ever showed his face back at McKinley, he wouldn't get a warning, he'd be taken out by poison dart on sight.

: : :

After the show, Artie spent an inordinate amount of time talking with Sunshine, in Santana's opinion. The Filipina girl's cheeks seemed rather red, also in Santana's opinion. _Well, this is interesting. _

After Sunshine excused herself and went to go meet Puck so she could be stuffed in a garment bag and thrown in the back of his pickup truck, Santana cornered Artie, which was remarkably easy to do since there was only one handicapped-accessible exit in the auditorium.

"So, someone's getting their flirt on."

The pinkness of Artie's cheeks belied his true feelings. "Sunshine is on Carmel's Smarty Pants team, Cranial Adrenaline. We went head-to-head with them over the weekend. They were kicking our asses until we—and by 'we', I mean me—swept the bonus round. It tied us up, so I went against her in the Lightning Tie-Breaker Round: 'J-Words'. She beat me 5-to-4 by knowing the word _jentacular_. If the Cheerios weren't distracting me, I would've tied it up again with _juxtaposition_. Sunshine and I were just expressing our mutual admiration for each other's intellectual magnitude."

"Please. You were actually expressing your mutual admiration for each other's _sexual_ magnitude."

"I'm with Genevieve," Artie explained flatly.

"And you sound absolutely _thrilled_ about it." Santana redirected Artie's attention to Sunshine, who was looking warily at the handful of plastic wrist-ties Puck was holding. "That girl just saved the whole night. I'm _applauding_ you for taking advantage of the _gigantic_ crush she obviously has on you. I say, go flirt a bit more. She'll be in Akron by tonight, so there's zilch reason to feel guilty. Compared to the path of evil I've led Mercedes to, you're nerdy come-ons are relatively noble. Now, shoo. People will start thinking we're friends."

At that moment, Brittany scurried to Santana's side, looking between her and Artie warily. "Hey, everybody, what's up?"

"Hi, Brittany," Artie greeted, "great job tonight. So, I'm gonna go make sure Puck's not planning on using that rolled-up sock for what I think he considering."

"What was that about?" Brittany asked, attempting to be subtle.

"Don't worry, Dandelion, we were being perfectly civil. In fact, I think he's found his rebound girl." She gestured over to where Sunshine was shyly thanking Artie for some benevolent deed.

Mostly sincere, Brittany remarked, "I'm happy for him. But I thought he was dating the snuggly girl on the drama team whose hair keeps changing color. Like Tonks."

"Well, looks like he's moving from one midget to the next." Looking up at her girlfriend, still in heels, "I don't know how you came into play."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

"But if Artie dumps Genevieve, won't she be sad?"

"Not my problem." When Brittany pouted, Santana firmly replied, "Hey, I did my due diligence. She's not my problem." Seeing her girlfriend still in a state of melancholy, she added, "Besides, a certain Canary told me she was looking to get into the superhero game." This was enough to brighten Brittany's mood, so the couple walked hand-in-hand out of the theater.

Meanwhile, Tina and Mike were also watching Artie.

"He's got an Asian fetish. I cannot believe I dated him. Someone's race should not factor so much into your dating preferences."

Mike remarked, "So, my mom found your parents. We're all going for dim sum later."

"Cool."

: : :

Back in the choir room, Will and Holly calmed the excited crowd.

"Okay, guys, listen up. I'm really proud of you guys. We raised over half of the cost to Nationals."

Rachel was deflated. "We didn't make enough?"

"No, we'd have to have filled the auditorium to do that. But don't worry; we'll raise the rest. We'll hold bake sales. We'll hold car washes. We'll sell salt-water taffy. Whatever it takes."

"Or we might try something _cool_," Holly sing-songed.

"Or we may let Ms. Holliday being the idea man," Will acknowledged.

Puck raised his hand and Will reluncantly called on him. "So, I've got this package which I have to get to its destination by her curfew, I mean, deadline, so I'm heading out." He and Mike picked up a lumpy sack and headed to the door.

"Dismissed, I guess," Will noted.

: : :

Sue paced back and forth in the principal's office. "I'm surrounded by imbeciles!"

Terri, who was sitting in a chair between two empty ones, remarked, "So, the failures aren't actually here."

"That remains to be determined."

"I don't suppose you have Sergeant Handsome's contact information?"

"Listen up, Honey Badger, you're my last hope. You'll be showing me what you've got."

Not masking her bored expression, Terri replied, "I don't see why you're going through all this effort, given the _real_ motives behind this little vendetta."

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak. And you were never meant to see my notes."

"You left your little diary open on your desk. I'm a naturally nosy person. It's not a personality flaw."

"I gotta ask, Delmonico, now that you know what I'm planning on doing your ex-husband, are you still in?"

"More than ever," Terri answered.

* * *

A/N: You don't have to say anything. Yes, there was an ungodly wait between chapters. And, yes, just like the original, this chapter was a hot mess. I had to beat most of these storylines into submission. Anyway, in reality, I did set up all the storylines that I'm going to introduce in the next few chapters. And due to the difficulty in getting this to come together, it also took a long time. The next few chapters will not be so.

So, I know these past couple of chapters haven't been Brittana-heavy—they haven't been Brittana-light, either!—but I had to get Regionals out of the way. And this chapter was meant to be about characters and relationships that _I've_ been neglecting. We'll get back to your regularly scheduled Brittana in the next chapter.

A thousand apologies if Zira's dialogue is atrocious. I tried to research British slang, I really did, but it's something that isn't easily Googled. And since Miss Burke seems not to be a football fan, I'm making Zira a Man United fan.

So, I hid a lot of genius jokes in the soccer scene. I don't expect you to get them. And I don't expect those who tried to research it to get even half. But I'll dole out points to my astute readers as necessary.


	22. Loves to Dance

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 22  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. What she thought was going to be a peaceful week turns out to be anything but.  
Spoilers: 2x18 "Born This Way"

A/N: Those of you paying attention will realize why, despite "Born This Way" being a 90-minute episode, I had little material to work with. But I think I made do well enough.

Since some of you can't get enough Brittana, I made sure not to scrimp this time.

Also, a thousand gold stars and a future reference to anyone who predicts the meaning of the chapter title before the reveal near the end of the chapter. No cheating or lying!

* * *

Chapter 22: Loves to Dance

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Fresh off their win at Regionals, New Directions is full steam ahead getting ready for Nationals. Only one problem: "We don't have enough money in the budget to get to New York, so we're going to have to fundraise." So they hold a "Night of Neglect" benefit concert. When her dreams clue her in to the Hecklers' Club, Santana sets forth to undermine them. She starts a "League of Badassery" so that she and her friends (and her girlfriend) can fight Sue together. Go team! It totally works, obviously; you don't mess with Santana, bitches. And while the concert goes off without a hitch, New Directions' relationships hit some bumps. Mercedes and Raj are totally clicking, but she's still got Warbler Luke on the line. Santana gives her some good advice about this: "Play the field a little bit and then decide which one you want, and then let the unlucky bastard off easy." Well, it was advice from Santana at least. Artie and Genevieve on the other hand totally aren't clicking. And Puck and Faith never get off the ground, mostly because she's trying to get back with her ex while nursing a crush on Santana. "I'm abstinent." Oh, and that, too. Brittany is totally jealous of Santana's friendship with Faith, but she really doesn't have anything to worry about: "You really love her?" "Yeah." Plus, Santana finds Britt's possessiveness kinda hot. It looks like Holly's going back to her old ways when Vocal Adrenaline coach Dustin Goolsby flirts with her, but it turns out she's just playing him: "That was me blowing off our sleazy archrival by promising to meet him in the parking lot of a restaurant which is inside of a mall." And even though she admits to Will she's still a flirt: "I'm coming home with you tonight." Blaine and Kurt are settling into their relationship, even though Blaine's kind of a tease: "You know what they say about third dates…" After a tense encounter with Karofsky, they seem to be going strong. By the end of the night, Santana's got one more scheme up her sleeve. Seeing the sparks between Artie and Sunshine, she directs him to flirt a little with their competition. It's the least she can do since she kidnapped her for the benefit. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, that happened. And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

Santana woke up from a very muddled, incoherent dream. In her dream, she was coming to terms with being a lesbian, designing schemes to win Brittany's heart, putting a leash on Dave Karofsky, and bringing Kurt back to McKinley. So, she decided she was going have an easy week.

She snuggled further into Brittany's chest, who mumbled sleepily, "Why don't you like to sleep anymore?"

Santana didn't open her eyes. "Well, it's probably my _second_ favorite thing to do in bed with you."

"Mm-nmm…" she groaned in denial, "sleepy."

"Shh… me, too." And moments later, they were both back in a deep slumber.

: : :

During dance rehearsal, Santana was carefully watching Finn's flailing chimpanzee arms. Her dreams the night before told her those hands were capable of breaking nasal ridges, so she was on the lookout for Rachel and for herself.

It turned that she ought to have been more focused on the one part of Finn's body that was even less coordinated than his arms: his legs. (_Well, I can think of a __**third**__ uncoordinated part, but let's not dwell on that lest we want to see our breakfast coming back up._) Finn missed a step and the next thing they knew, Rachel was tumbling to the ground. Both Finn and Quinn did a synchronized swan dive to help her up. Mr. Schue halted the rehearsal.

Immediately, Brittany looped her arm around Santana's. The brunette asked her, "Since when is Quinn so concerned about Rachel's well-being?"

Brittany brow furrowed. "They've been total besties since Regionals. Not like us, though. At least I don't think…"

"Shh," Santana shushed. "Rachel, your nose okay?"

Rachel returned this sentiment with a glare, an expression that soon appeared on both Finn's and Quinn's faces. "My face didn't even touch the ground, Santana. My nose isn't _that_ large," she snarled wryly.

"I didn't mean it like that." Seeing a similar disapproving look from Brittany, she insisted, "I didn't."

"I caught myself, okay? Just a scraped elbow." Rachel pulled herself up and leaned forward to brush off her skirt. Simultaneously, Brittany twirled her girlfriend around. Halfway through the turn, a sharp pain invaded Santana's elbow. When she spun around to she was she'd hit, she found Rachel back on the ground, flat on her back, holding her face, with blood seeping through her fingers.

Santana's eyes turned to the heavens. "_Come on!_"

: : :

_So, this week is slightly hairier than I anticipated. _

The staff at Allen County General knew not to mess with Dr. Lopez's daughter, so all the members of New Directions were permitted to crowd into the examination room where Rachel was seated on the exam table, flanked by Finn and Quinn.

"I'm really sorry, Rachel," Santana apologized, stumbling through unfamiliar words. Brittany was hovering beside her, holding an ice bag to Santana's elbow, pulling it away occasionally to lay healing kisses on it.

"It's okay, Santana, it was an accident."

"My dad's got a disgustingly generous medical insurance plan. Don't worry about anything."

"I appreciate that, Santana, but I think we'll be fine."

Finn asked wondrously, "How'd you know she was going to break her nose? Are you, like, psychic?"

"She _totally_ is," Brittany exclaimed.

"Well, in that case, it seems we share something," Rachel replied, "And may I remind everyone present that it is yet to be established that my nose is indeed broken."

"Your nose is broken," the doctor stated the moment he entered the room. He took one look at Santana. "Your father gave the staff the impression we wouldn't be expecting any more of your victims."

"It was an accident!"

The doctor seemed unconvinced, so he looked at Rachel, who nodded. "Well, alright, then," the doctor replied, now fully half-convinced, "I'm Doctor Sanders." He proceeded to explain Rachel's condition and her "surgical options" in a room full of non-family members. It was such a blatant disregard of medical privacy laws that Santana couldn't help but make a mental blackmail note. "I'll leave you alone to consider you options with this large group of people who I will assume are all your cousins." When his eyes fell on Mercedes, he simply stated, "You must be from Leroy's side of the family." He turned to Santana.

"I'll just say I'm the illegitimate daughter with the housekeeper."

"I was going to tell you, Miss Lopez, that your father is insistent upon you also having an X-ray of your arm."

"Of course he is."

Once the room was quiet again, Finn remarked, "You don't have to get a nose job, Rachel. You're beautiful just the way you are." Many of her teammates echoed their sentiments.

"He said it could improve my voice."

"'_Could'_ being the operative word," Quinn cautioned Rachel.

"Says the girl with the perfect nose," Rachel mumbled.

Quinn was silent on this, so Santana spoke up, "Look, it'd be hypocritical of me to speak out against plastic surgery." Before too many eyes fell on her chest, she continued, "Look, I've made it my mission this year to improve myself. If there's something about yourself you don't like, change it." Feeling Brittany squeezing her arm, she added, "_If_ there's something you _don't_ like about yourself."

Rachel's gaze shifted from Santana to Finn and then to Quinn again.

Brittany whispered in her ear. "_I_ like them." Santana giggled. "I mean, they were fine before, but…"

"Shh," Santana shushed, "I get it. Thank you, baby."

: : :

Quinn was putting up a flier for her prom king and queen campaign with Sam, tracing her nose. She looked over to Santana, who was apparently trying to exert as little energy as possible as she "helped out" her friend. She was standing stone-still, leaning against the wall, and letting the fliers rest on her thigh rather than hold them up. "Flier," she asked politely as she could manage given her mood. Santana simply rolled against the wall, bringing the fliers a whole four inches closer to Quinn.

The brunette finally decided that using her jaw wasn't a waste of calories. "You think you're going to beat out all the Cheerios who run?"

"I'm not too worried. Coach Delmonico doesn't ride them about their food habits as Coach Sylvester did. I've seen the whole squad bingeing on chicken fingers on several occasions. The seams on Clarke's skirt split before my very eyes in Home Ec yesterday."

"This is important to you, isn't it?"

"I'm not Head Cheerio anymore. I'm not dating the quarterback. My mom is too afraid of being the one to disappoint _me_ to actually have any expectations. You get more songs than me in glee now. This is something that can be _mine_."

"Vote Quinn Fabray," Santana half-heartedly told a passing crowd of band kids.

On the other side of the hall, Lauren Zizes was watching this exchange. Without even turning her gaze, she plucked a passing figure out of the crowd. It was Puck. "Puckerman," she greeted, not looking at him, "I may have been hasty in terminating our relationship. How would you like to run for prom king and queen with me?"

Puck hesitated, "Look, Lauren, I'm flattered, really, but the truth is, I'm still kind of stinging from the way you dumped me like the bag of trash that's been sitting in my room for a month." Lauren crinkled her nose at this. "I still need some time to get over you."

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Puckerman, I'm rescinding the invitation. I need a candidate for prom _king_, not queen." She shoved him away, but he held back.

"Look, Lauren, if you do end up running, you've got my vote. If anyone can rule this school, it's you."

Lauren's expression softened. "You're alright, Puckerman."

After he'd moved on, she continued to watch students passing through, and her focus settled on a cluster of passing football players.

: : :

"We're going to do a group number by the queen of self-love: Gaga. We'll be performing her anthem to acceptance: 'Born This Way'," Will explained to a pleased crowd in glee.

"And Miss Pillsbury has graciously agreed to help us with our costumes," Holly followed, her voice a little too sweet at the redhead.

Emma proceeded to explain about the white tee-shirts. "Write a word, or a phrase, that best expresses the thing about you that you're most ashamed of, or you would like to change about yourself, but you can't, because you were 'born that way'."

"I want you to love those parts of you, _embrace_ them," Will added, laying a hand on Emma's shoulder. She smiled at the contact, Holly didn't and the two quickly separated.

Mike asked for an example, and Holly stepped forward, unbuttoning her blouse, which she popped open to reveal "FLIRT" emblazoned across her chest. Puck's eyes, which were a moment ago bugged out, lowered in disappointment.

"Back up, Sweetie," Santana called out, "I think we all know that you're _quite_ proud of your charms."

"Well, yes, but that doesn't mean there aren't times when I think it gets me into trouble. Let illustrate: Brittany, have you ever noticed that Santana has a pet name for _everybody_, and that some of them are the same ones she calls you?" Brittany nodded. "Does she make bedroom eyes at the baristas when you go out for coffee? And has she ever _not_ gotten away with speeding ticket with just a warning."

"It's like everyone's psychic but me," Brittany wondered aloud, flabbergasted, "I bet it was that rabies shot. It's not like Charity bit me _that_ hard."

"_Mira, estudiantes_, what you're putting across your chest doesn't have to be a flaw. We're all wired a certain way. I'll be the first to admit I flaunt a lot of things about myself that society says doesn't exactly make me a proper lady. And maybe my life would be easier if I didn't do those things, but I wouldn't be Holly Holliday if I didn't, would I?"

The assignment made more sense after that, and New Direction all but stampeded to Emma and the letter press.

Kurt was showing his teammates his shirt, fresh off the press: "LIKES BOYS".

Santana asked aloud, "Huh, I was gonna be uncreative and do 'LESBIAN' but maybe I should do 'LIKES GIRLS' instead."

"You'll totally be twinsies!" Brittany exclaimed jubilantly. "Who wants to be my twinsie?"

Puck pulled out his lecherous persona. "What does that entail?"

"Well, my shirt's going to say, 'I'M WITH STUPID' but, like, with an arrow pointing up. Do something similar."

"I'm with Stupid, too." He pointed at his face.

"Except that finger should be pointing the opposite direction," Santana joked.

Puck looked confused until he flipped his finger and looked down. He grinned and chuckled. "Okay, then." He held up his hand for a high-five, which Santana met.

"I can't dance," Finn pointed out, "My mom says it's genetic."

"Well, I can't sing," Mike echoed. They, too, high-fived.

Santana pulled Brittany aside, "You know you're not stupid."

Brittany leaned forward with an air of clandestineness. "I'm being sneaky, like you. The arrow's not really pointing at _me_. It's pointing at my head." To illustrate, she pressed her index finger onto her forehead. "I have a stupid brain. Or a brain that everyone else seems to think is stupid. To me, my brain seems super-smart."

"I agree. It gets all the important things right: dancing, friends, _love_." She laid a peck on her girlfriend's lips.

Tina was holding up her own shirt.

"'BROWN EYES'?" Mercedes read, "What's that mean?"

"Everyone sees me and Mike as 'that Asian couple' when in reality we're really different culturally." Mercedes nodded, having heard the argument before.

"My folks emigrated from China to the States just before I was born," Mike explained.

"…whereas my parents are long since acculturated. They were third generation Asian-American Long Islanders…" A gasp from Rachel interrupted Tina, who continued undaunted, "…before moving to Lima and adopting me, so they know more about Chinatown and Koreatown than... you know, China or Korea. So, I'm not really in touch with my ethnic roots at all. It's why I have no qualms about dyeing streaks of my hair or wearing clothing which has its origins in Eastern Europe. Or, to address one of Mike's pet peeves, wearing colored contacts so I have blue eyes like the women on the covers of fashion magazines."

There was a long silence before Quinn offered, "I'll be your twin."

"You gonna address those gorgeous hazels?" Sam asked.

"No, I'm gonna make a shirt that says 'BROWN HAIR'," she answered, as the rest of the room gasped. "My dad is the only natural blonde in the family. My mom, my sister, and me, we _were_ all born with hair about this color," she indicated her own golden tresses, "but by the age of eight or so, we'd all darkened to light brown, at which point we were taught how to use dye and how to diligently touch up our roots. I hope this isn't too staggering of a dirty little secret."

"I knew," Brittany remarked, "she doesn't 'use the water colors on the squirrel', if you know what I mean."

"Shh," Santana shushed her, putting a hand against Brittany's lips. "So, who's sharing next? About their shirt," she clarified.

: : :

Karofsky was staring at one of Quinn's fliers. More specifically, he was staring at _Sam_, Santana noticed. She fondly remembered her previous night's dream, where she'd used Karofsky's dirty little secret against him. She beamed at the fact she was (unsurprisingly) a badass in every alternate reality.

_Wow, I must have been desperate to hide my lesbianism if I attached myself to him._ _I might have to invest in some new friends if they think that I could ever fall in love with __**that**__. "And then something funny happened. Something called love." _She looked down at her hand and had the urge to wash it.

Santana felt something panging in her chest, which she soon realized was her conscience. _Dang, why did I have to go and nurture the little bastard with good deeds? It's like a damn stray cat on your back porch that won't go away because you fed it. Can't a girl get a vacation without it being a __**working**__ vacation? Ugh, let's recap: I gotta keep Karofsky out of the prom king race so that Fabray doesn't go all _Fatal Attraction_. And maybe starting to nudge him out of the closet might be for his own good. _

_And perhaps his downward spiral will be entertaining. _Santana smirked to herself, not exactly at the "altruistic" stage yet.

She strolled up to Karofsky. "I know what you're thinking," she sing-songed, watching his eyes shoot wide open in utter panic. "You've got it in your rump roast-shaped head to run for prom king, haven't you?"

"Yeah!" Karofsky agreed immediately, not sounding the least bit convincing.

Santana pretended to take him at his word. "Well, you do have the benefit of being on the football team. Formerly," she noted, causing him to scowl. "But I think most of your classmates will overlook that. You are gonna have to track down a pretty girl to be your running mate if you're going up against Quinn. I mean, who do you think is prettier than her?"

"Uhh…" Karofsky replied.

"Your problem exactly," she noted with believable sympathy, "So, I know you're coveting a tiara…" She paused a second too long before 'correcting' herself, "…_crown_, I mean. Sorry, I thinking like a girl."

Karofsky scowled. "Why are you talking to me? Don't you hate me?"

"I'm turning over a new leaf. There's some good even in people like me." Karofsky just nodded, still wary but listening intently. "I think I know why you're thinking about being prom king. I'd love that crown, too. It would mean that people here still respected me. So, sure, I could enact some charity campaign to win the hearts of the common man, like some Miss USA contestant… or Lady Di. I could attach myself to the nearest hunky guy—Puck's back on the market, after all…"

"He's pretty hunky," Karofsky agreed.

It took a lot for Santana not to just laugh in his face, but she maintained her poise. "Careful," she warned. "…but if I did that, I'd just be lying to myself. Hiding."

"You sound like a _Hallmark_ movie."

_You would know what one of those is like._ "I probably freakin' do. Chicks dig poetry."

"You're wasting your breath, Lopez. I wasn't even planning on running. I was just… daydreaming."

"Good. In that case, vote for Fabray. Hell hath no fury like an Anglo girl denied her plastic, bejeweled trinket." She winked and made her way to her next class.

: : :

Mercedes sat down with Warbler Luke at a table at The Lima Bean. "So, gotta ask," she began, "do you wear that uniform everywhere?" She eyed his navy blue blazer with criticism.

"During the school week, yeah. I have civvies for the weekends."

"It's nothing personal. It's just, if it were me, I don't think I could _wait_ to get out of something so… stuffy."

Luke laughed. "Well, Dalton uniforms are tailored, so they're more comfortable than they look. And… I actually like it. It's not only my school uniform, but it's my Warbler uniform. It's a symbol of pride and prestige for me."

"I feel ya, I do. For a time, I was on McKinley's cheerleading squad and I had to wear a uniform every day. But after a while, I realized that the uniform was making me someone who I didn't like. This…" she indicated the brightly-colored and patterned ensemble she was wearing, "this is me."

"I understand that," Luke replied defensively, "And I respect it. But at the same time, this…" he indicated his uniform, "this is me, too. Perhaps I'm just channeling my father—he was a Captain in the Navy—but the Warblers are a unit, something greater than the sum of its parts. In our choir, we each have our place. And it's not like this blazer covers up who I am. You gotta admit," he remarked, fluffing his mass of curly black hair, "I'm pretty easy to pick out of the lineup."

"No, I get it. That's what my hair looks like, under this weave." Luke just nodded. Mercedes after a while stated, apropos of nothing, "My dad, he's a dentist."

"Yeah, I think you told me that before. Can I guess about what he wears every day? Scrubs, I'd bet, probably a lab coat?"

Mercedes nodded. "He's a pediatric dentist, though, so he doesn't wear solid-color scrubs. He's got scrubs with zig-zags straight out of the Eighties, and some with stars and comets, and quite a few Christmas-themed ones. My mama buys them from the nurse's section of the store; I don't know if he's figured it out yet. Oh, and one of his coats, I swear on my Nana's grave, is tied-dyed."

Luke grinned in appreciation. "He sounds like a fun guy. I'd like to meet him." When Mercedes nodded with obvious discomfort, he added, "Sorry, I don't want to push things too quickly. Long-distance relationships can be tricky." Mercedes brushed it off. "Speaking of which, Blaine has been _adamantly_ tight-lipped about his relationship with Kurt. How are they doing? All of us Warblers were really rooting for them and it's my duty to get the deets."

Mercedes smiled at that. "You're lucky my boy Kurt can't hide a thing to save his life. He's absolutely smitten, so I suspect things are going really well. They're probably taking it slow, though."

"They'll be fine. Blaine does enjoy his grand romantic gestures."

Mercedes checked her watch. "Look, I hate to cut this date short, but I've got a World History project that I have been procrastinating on all week."

Luke nodded his head. "No biggie. It's lasagna night at my house, so the whole clan's gonna be there, so I got to get going, too. I had a lovely time, Miss Jones." He got up from his seat and laid a delicate kiss on Mercedes's cheek.

They parted ways and Mercedes was in the parking lot, unlocking her car when a familiar voice called out her name. She turned and was greeted with the sight of Raj waving, surrounded by a few other guys she recognized from school. He excused himself from the group and ran over, while Mercedes covertly checked the perimeter like Puck's notebook warned her.

"Hey, Handsome." _'Always use nicknames as not to call the wrong date the wrong name.' _

"The band's getting our caffeine fix. We're having a brainstorming session tonight. We're gonna push out a song if it kills us."

"Good luck with that. I was just meeting some friends for coffee." _'Never use specifics when lying. They're hard to remember later, they're easy for the other person to verify, and most importantly they arouse suspicion.' _ "Look, I'd love to stay and chat," she said, smiling and brushing his arm to distract him from his surroundings, "but I've got a huge project for Mr. Prospero."

Raj whistled with sympathy. "Good luck with that. Also, I owe you a phone call, because the two of us had a bangin' time at Breadstix and we are overdue for another night of flirtation."

"You got my digits," Mercedes replied.

Raj played with the collar of her fire-engine red jacket. "I like this."

"It's flashy, I know," she replied, almost apologetically.

"You wouldn't be Mercedes Jones if it weren't."

She slipped into her car and watched Raj rejoin his bandmates. She dug into her backpack and pulled out the binder Santana had given her. As she scanned the cover, the brick in her stomach dropped another few inches. She threw the binder into the backseat recklessly and backed her car out of the parking spot, slamming on her brakes a split-second later to avoid hitting a car entering the lot.

: : :

_I wish I could tie you up in my shoes  
Make you feel unpretty too  
I was told I was beautiful  
But what does that mean to you  
Look into the mirror who's inside there  
The one with the long hair  
Same old me again today_

My outsides are cool  
My insides are blue  
Every time I think I'm through  
It's because of you  
I've tried different ways  
But it's all the same  
At the end of the day  
I have myself to blame  
I'm just trippin'

Without even realizing it, Santana noticed she was hand-signing the chorus. Quinn and Rachel, their respective expressions pitiful and heartbreaking, sat on stools that were surprisingly close together for two girls who used to be mortal enemies.

Santana was five when the music video for TLC's "Unpretty" came out. At the time, she thought the video was funny, with the girls floating on pillows dressed like Princess Jasmine, the computer that made the girl's boobies bigger, the hospital with water balloons, and the chubby girl who got to eat as many cookies as she wanted _and_ got to tear the pictures out of big-girl magazines without getting in trouble with her mommy. As a child, she'd watched it a hundred times so she could learn Left-Eye's arm movements. Since then, the memories had faded into the back of her mind, but now the imagery of the video came back to her with similar clarity to the dreams she'd been having. As each image passed through her mind, she felt another stab deep into her chest, until it was so overwhelming, she was surprised she wasn't bawling.

"Santana, what's wrong?" Brittany whispered.

"What?" Santana replied, hearing the ache in her voice and feeling the moisture in her eyes for the first time. "Oh, nothing. It's just a really pretty song."

"Yeah," Brittany replied, her voice knowing and compassionate. She wrapped an arm around her girlfriend, dragging her into her lap and laying her chin atop her head. After the song ended, Quinn gave Rachel an over-the-shoulder hug and passed her to Finn.

: : :

_So, it's not worth __**bothering**__ with the idea of a relaxing week anymore. Big surprise. Santana Lopez has to be large and in-charge. _

Inspired by her nighttime visions, she brought up a topic at the next GayLesbAll meeting. "I think we need to hold an anti-bullying week."

"We need to hold an anti-bullying _forever_," Kurt noted sharply.

"I agree," Santana replied, "so let's do it. As of this moment, anyone else who wasn't already in my League of Badassery, you've now been inducted." Her eyes scanned the room; Finn seemed the only one that was overly pleased with this announcement. "We'll get permission from Figgins to 'intercede' on acts of intimidation we see in the hallways."

"I don't think starting fights is going to solve anything," Kurt remarked.

"For once, I'm not suggesting getting physical. Think of it like crowd control. The police have been doing it for decades and it _stops_ riots in their tracks. Don't you ever watch Fox News? It's foolproof."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"I think it's a marvelous idea," Rachel stated brightly, but lowered her voice considerably, "unfortunately, I'm not exactly sure how intimidating we'll be."

This was something that had occurred to Santana as well. The version of her from the other timeline had recruited Karofsky via blackmail, but it was a bridge she'd burned the previous day by trying to set him on the path of honesty. _Substitutions can be made, though._ "Well, let's not forget that we have boyfriends and friends on the football team."

"Santana, I'm honored that you're taking inspiration from my mission last year to protect Kurt from Karofsky."

Santana frowned, not having much of a case to refute her allegation.

"Santana totally outdid you on that, though," Brittany loyally brought up.

"Yeah," Santana agreed, sounding a bit presumptuous, "I mean, I'm totally willing to get into the dirt with this little project. Some of us with more fragile bones can handle sentry duty."

Rachel covered her bandaged nose self-consciously.

There was a knock on the door and none other than Dave Karofsky poked his head in. He meekly hung near the doorframe, ready to bolt at any second.

Kurt, hands and jaw clenched, leapt from his seat, "What are you doing here, Karofsky?"

He spoke his answer almost too softly to be heard. "I was listening to this conversation…"

"Eavesdropping," Kurt corrected.

"Whatever. I wanna help with your little anti-bullying campaign."

Santana began wondering whether she was some sort of genius or if the universe was continuing to play pranks on her.

"Oh, that's rich," Rachel groaned, "a former bully switches sides."

"How is that any different that the fact you're planning on using Hudson and Puckerman? Those two _led the charge_ to throw kids in dumpster a year ago. Most notably _you_, Hummel." The room was rendered speechless by his logic. "And can I point out that this was apparently Lopez's idea? Weren't you bragging not too long ago that you'd achieved your goal of reducing one-hundred girls to tears in a week?"

"That was… just a little over a year ago, I guess."

"What's your angle?" Finn asked, "You trying to win brownie points with Principal Sylvester so you can play football again?"

"The season's over and I'm already well on my way to having my probation dropped at the end of the year." Still feeling distrustful eyes on him, he spoke, "I'm not saying I don't have some obvious ulterior motives, but I really do support what you're trying to do. I don't—didn't—bully kids because I liked being mean; I did it so I would have power. The 'carry a big stick' principle."

"The idea being that philosophy is you don't use the stick," Rachel explained dismissively.

"Fine," Karofsky hissed. "I'm sure you all know who Tyler Clementi is." The room was dead silent. The jock noticed a fury burning in Kurt and Santana's eyes. "I don't want that kind of thing to happen because of me: kids killing themselves. My mom still buys all my clothes. If I can't be responsible for dressing myself, I shouldn't want _or_ deserve to control whether anyone lives or dies. I just didn't want to get messed with, and I suspect that also how the losers of this school feel."

Neither Santana nor Karofsky remembered much about how the rest of the meeting proceeded. All she knew was that she grabbed him after they adjourned.

"Okay, what's really going on?"

"I wasn't lying about not wanting to hurt people."

Recalling from her dream how she'd apparently coached Karofsky about what to say, Santana remained dubious. "That's not an answer."

"I'm turning over a new leaf. There's some good even in people like me."

Santana groaned. "You mentioned 'ulterior motives', 'motives' plural. One motive is to get on Sylvester's good side. What are the others?"

"It's a figure of speech." Santana continued to look at him. "And I'm running for prom king."

"With who?"

"Lauren Zizes. Strando says she was asking some of the football players to run with her. So, I offered myself up, and she agreed. That's why I'm doing this. It was your suggestion: the First Lady Diana thing? A feel-goody campaign…"

"You _completely_ missed the point of that speech."

"Being prom king would allow me to be top dog without hurting a fly. Frankly, you oughta stop questioning my motives and just let me help you out."

Santana wanted to remain dubious, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt, and he didn't disappoint.

The next day, she was confronting Azimio, who was about to deposit Jacob Ben Israel into a trash can.

"I thought we were buddies?" the nerd screeched, "Didn't we bond on the Heckler's Club?"

"Shut up, dweeb."

Santana strolled up, a badge hanging on a leather holder on a chain around her neck, like the lady cops on crime procedural TV shows. She'd even completed the look by wearing tight jeans, a form-fitting white tank top, and a leather jacket. Kurt had elected himself costume designer for the League of Badassery and decided a casual "undercover police officer" motif was fitting. Santana wasn't sure what she was going to do with the red berets she'd already ordered. "Release the nerd, Adams."

Azimio obeyed and dropped Jacob onto the floor. "Nice badge, Lopez, you get it at the dollar store?"

"Doesn't matter where I got it," Santana replied, invading his personal space, "It signifies that I gots the authority to drag your ass to detention."

"Is that right?" Azimio humored her, unimpressed.

"…with the co-signature of a teacher or other staff member," she admitted sheepishly. "Luckily, I got some dirt on Mr. DeWitt, so I've got _carte blanche_ to give these babies out like candy."

Azimio laughed in her face. "Tossing Jewfro in the trash is worth a detention. Go play hall monitor somewhere else."

Santana put a hand on his arm and squeezed. "Don't forget who I am. I would _cherish_ the opportunity to write you your detention pass with one boot shoved into your asscheek." She lifted her leg to draw Azimio's eyes to the sharp heels she was wearing.

"Don't tempt me, Ana Lucia. It's been a while since I've had a good fight. I usually don't hit girls, but I think you've put that identification into question."

Santana was a second from shoving her knee so deep into Azimio's belly he'd get an ulcer, when she was stopped by a large paw of a hand pulling her away. "I'll handle this," Karofsky told her.

"Hey, bro," Azimio greeted with a smile, "I was about to put a couple of geeks in their place. Give me a hand?"

"Let it go, Zee."

Azimio's eye caught the badge strapped to his best friend's pocket. "Oh, hell no. Tell me you're not playing mall cop with the queer club!"

Wordlessly, Karofsky pulled Azimio aside, allowing Jacob the chance to scamper away. "I'm not protecting the losers here; I'm protecting _you_. You think I want to do this, Zee? Lopez and Hummel got me by the balls. And they're the only two ladies at this school whose hands I don't want near my junk." Azimio grinned at this despite himself. "Jewfro probably just pissed his pants at the _thought_ of what you could do to him. Believe me, all you need to do to run this place is walk tall and stare hard. That way, you won't risk some freshman running home to his mommy and getting you suspended."

Azimio surveyed his friend for a long second before nodding. "That's good advice. You're a lot smarter than you look, Dave. Gotta admit; we'll need you on the team next year if we want to win another championship. I guess if you need to keep your nose clean, I can do the same." He was about to walk off, but he turned back to add, "But I reserve the right to put stink bombs in the mailbox of that racist old guy who lives down the street from me."

"I approve. We cool?"

"Of course we are, Big K. You're my best bud. Anyone else I would have left in the cold, but not you. I'd hug you, but that'd be gay."

Karofsky chuckled uncomfortably. When he turned, he was surprised to see Santana still standing in the hallways. "Nice job, Dave," she remarked, "could use a little more finesse, but I think you're well on your way to courting the proletariat vote."

"That does mean me and Zizes got your vote?"

"Oh, please; I wouldn't vote for you if _we_ were running together. I think being in the closet has cut off your oxygen supply. By the way, your fly's unzipped."

: : :

Emma and Carl sat on opposite sides of the couch. They're weren't turned away from each other, but Emma was facing forward (sitting on a doily), busying herself with scrubbing the coffee table in front of her, while Carl was turned in to look at her.

"Mrs. Howell..." Dr. Shane, the therapist, announced her presence.

"Oh, it's not Mrs. Howell. We're not married."

"Yet," Carl insisted, "We're not married _yet_. Hopefully, we'll be getting married this fall, but not if we can't get help for our problems."

"Carl, we don't have problems. At least not big problems that we need to talk to someone about. No offense," she told the therapist.

"None taken, but I do have to ask why you think your problems aren't severe enough to warrant my intervention."

"Carl and I… we…" She struggled to say something.

"We made love," Carl said.

"…became intimate," Emma said at the same time.

"You're distancing yourself using euphemisms, Emma. Don't you love your fiancé?"

"Yes, I do!" Emma replied, "Of course I do. I love him very much, but that… experience… it wasn't positive for me, so I think we should wait now. I'm allowed to want to wait. I can't be forced…"

"Shh," Dr. Shane shushed, "That's true. A woman—or man—should not feel pressured to be more sexually intimate than they feel comfortable."

"Yes!" Emma called, happy at the agreement.

"…but I do have to question whether you're making these decisions from a healthy state of mind."

"I'm not crazy!" Emma screamed. Carl sighed and put his head in his hands. "I'm not."

"Emma, mental illness does not equal psychopathy. Obsessive-compulsive disorder and sexual dysfunction are very treatable. And more common than you would think. Few people talk about it because they feel ashamed."

"I'm a high school guidance counselor. It's my job to tell kids that the decision to have sex is not one to be made lightly."

"And that's true. But the reason we tell teenagers that is that they are in the middle of puberty and their brains aren't fully formed. Their decision-making skills are compromised. And so are yours."

"I am a grown adult!"

"Fair enough. Let's do an exercise. I want you to kiss Carl, Emma."

Emma cringed. "I'm rather shy about public displays of affection."

"That's alright. Maybe you could just hold his hand. I know he rubbed some hand sanitizer on it when he walked in." Emma just shook her head. "How about you move one inch closer to the man you plan to marry within the year?"

Emma face crumpled up and she lurched forward, heaving. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Emma. Your OCD is a biological condition."

"Right! It's not my fault! Why can't you let me be?"

"So, you admit you suffer from OCD?" When Emma didn't answer, she continued, "Let me give you a hypothetical scenario. What if a student with a severe vision impairment came into your office and dropped a pair of glasses on your desk, telling you that their poor sight was just a genetic quirk and that you should 'let them be'? What if the first thing they did after walking out of your office was to take their boyfriend or girlfriend by the hand and suggest they go for a drive? Would you let them go, or would you tell them that they're about to hurt themselves, and those closest to them?"

Emma hazarded a glance at Carl.

"Let me tell you a story. After I gave birth to my daughter, I suffered from a severe case of post-partum depression. I couldn't even look at my husband. After a year of not making love, rarely kissing, and seldom sleeping in the same bed, we tried a trial separation. I couldn't have cared less that I was losing the man I had been madly in love with for ten years, who when were in college I would drive three hundred miles every weekend just to spend a day with, who I left a very prestigious internship and moved across the country to be with. He just drifted away while I watched infomercials. Luckily, I had a sister who cared very much about me who got me the help I needed."

After a long silence, Emma finally asked, "What do you think I should do?"

: : :

Santana enjoyed being on patrol during her shifts for the rest of week, and not just because she got to skip class. She also got to spend quality time with Puck intimidating some of her more fearsome fellow students.

Kurt provided Puck with a brown trench coat, a white button-up, and a tie that he was instructed to keep loose at all times. He had to endure a search almost daily from the resource officers, but it worth it to pull out his badge in its leather flip-fold from his pocket, complete with mock FBI credentials that Artie had made him.

"So, how'd we get two days in a row on duty together?" Santana wondered, eyeing a Cheerio at the water fountain.

"I switched shifts with Mike. I'd been partnered with Quinn for today." He left it at that.

"Is that still a big ole bag of awkward?"

"You have a kid with someone and tell me how it goes."

"Pass. That would require icky heterosexual relations."

"Can I be straight with you? Excuse the turn of phrase," he added before Santana could quip; she seemed disappointed by the lost opportunity. "At the risk of sounding like the worst lesbro ever, I think you're maybe playing up the lesbian thing. I get that there was no love lost when you dumped me. I can just look at the way you are with B and know what was missing from our 'relationship'. But the way you act all offended about dicks now, it makes me wonder if I somehow… _traumatized_ you with all our hookups."

Santana was pensive. "There's no guidebook for being gay. All I know is that nothing made sense until that moment when Brittany laid one on me at a Cheerios initiation sleepover." _Sap_, Santana thought, seeing Puck was thinking something similar. "Doing the nasty with guys; it was never bad. Okay, it was actually bad a lot, but it wasn't… disturbing. I mean, you in particular did not suck at it." Puck beamed despite himself. "But after Britts, I didn't want to go back. But most of that I can blame on my girly feelings. Why is it that I can appreciate the models on the cover of both_ Men's_ and _Women's Health_ magazine, even if the feelings aren't the same? I just don't want to do this wrong."

"'_This'_?"

"Being a lesbian. Can you do it wrong? 'Cuz it turns out I was doing being straight all kinds of wrong."

"You didn't suck at it, either," Puck teased.

"Oh, please. Carve a hole in a cantaloupe; see if it's any different for you." She finished, "Shouldn't I be different person now? Shouldn't this whole 'being honest with myself' thing make me into who I'm supposed to be?"

"You're Santana Lopez."

_Well, damn, Puckerman, if that ain't the right answer. Maybe this week won't be a total boner. _

: : :

After a week of ignoring the situation, Kurt and Santana decided to confront the issue.

"We can _see_ you hiding behind the sound booth," Santana told Karofsky, the three of them standing outside the auditorium. It was right before the last dress rehearsal for their "Born This Way" number.

"So what?" Karofsky defended. "I'm here for Zizes. We're dating now."

"Which by the way is so freaky, I can even manage to find it funny," Santana quipped.

"I know you two are all out-and-proud, but I'm still trying to figure myself out. Just 'cuz I like looking at another guy's muscles, it doesn't necessarily mean I'm a homo. Plus, aren't you guys a _show_ choir. Don't you want people to watch your little fruit fiestas?"

"Look, Dave," Kurt said, "we don't mind you watching. You've been very helpful with our Anti-Bullying Week, so I've no right to have a beef with you. What we really wanted to talk to you about is what we seeing you doing while you're watching."

"You're getting your jive on," Santana said, "Something tells me you want to get your lumpy, uncoordinated body on stage with us."

Karofsky bowed his head. "Yeah, right."

"I know you may not be ready to wear one of these," Kurt noted, pulling open his red plaid shirt. Karofsky's eyes took in the words "LIKES BOYS" and turned away. "But maybe you'd be willing to try one of these on for size."

Santana held up an XXL white shirt emblazoned with the words "LOVES TO DANCE". She tossed it to him as she and Kurt made their way inside, noticing that Rachel was giving a speech about her decision to forgo the nose job, which was the same thing she was doing when they left her to confront Karofsky.

_I'm beautiful in my way  
'Cause God makes no mistakes  
I'm on the right track baby  
I was born this way_

_Don't hide yourself in regret  
Just love yourself and you're set  
I'm on the right track baby  
I was born this way_

Santana spent much of the song exaggerating the movements. Technically, it was part of the choreography to distract from the likes of Finn, who was already wearing a billboard declaring his lack of dancing prowess, but the Vanna White-style gestures toward her shirt she incorporated was for her own enjoyment.

Mercedes had her weave taken out and was sporting a shirt that said "NAPPY HAIR." At one point in the song, she'd line up with Artie ("FOUR EYES"), Rachel ("SNOZ"), and Sam ("FISH LIPS").

Near the back of the room, Lauren Zizes was running the lights. The job didn't require much effort at this point, since the computer ran the actual equipment. The bulk of her work had been setting the timing, which had been accomplished the previous day. All she had to do now was cue it up with the music and let it play, and stay close to monitor it. So when Dave Karofsky walked up, she had the attention to greet him. "What's that?" Her eyes remained glued on the laptop screen.

Karofsky looked at the wadded-up shirt in his hand. "Nothing." His eyes remained focused on the stage. "You used to do that with them. Was it fun?"

"It didn't suck. You sweat like a pig from all the dancing. But you get to sing. It's got this bizarre universal charm. You didn't hear me say that, by the way."

Karofsky nodded, his head bouncing with the beat.

_Rejoice and love yourself today  
'Cause baby you were born this way_

At their lockers half an hour later, Brittany ran up and threw her arms around Santana. "You were _so_ into that dance, Sweetie!"

"I'm always into the dancing."

"Yeah, but after everything that's happened this year, you wearing that shirt while we sang that song… I was so proud of you." She gripped the top of her shirt.

Her speech caused familiar words to echo in Santana's brain. _"It meant so much to me, to see you be so honest. I was so proud of you."_

"You know, I had another idea for my shirt," she continued, "It would've said 'SWINGS' and then one arrow going to the… this way," she pointed to her right with one hand, "and one arrow going that a-way," she pointed to the left with the other arm, twisting her arms. "Then I would've been brave like you."

"Please, I don't own who I am like you and Kurt. If you asked me to wear this shirt to school tomorrow, I might still chicken out." Brittany frowned. "But…" Santana continued, "…if this shirt said 'LIKES BRITTANY', I'd wear it every day. I'd get up on stage and show it off to everybody. I'd dance with you down the hallways in it." Santana knew she was totally cheating by borrowing words from her visions, but the smile that appeared on Brittany's face made her care even less.

"I'd totally wear a 'LIKES SANTANA' shirt, too, but then I think people would just assume I like that Mexican guitar guy and—"

"Shh," Santana shushed, "Enough talking. I need those lips for something else. I've had a busy week." She wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck and received some well-earned sweet lady kisses.

_I'm on the right track baby  
I was born to be brave_

* * *

A/N: So, the Rachel/Quinn scene was included simply because I had in my notes _twice_ that "I Feel Pretty/Unpretty" had to be in the chapter. I'm ashamed to say that it wasn't until the time of writing that I realized how painfully appropriate that song was for a Santana character study moment. Here's your homework: if you haven't seen TLC's "Unpretty" music video, go watch it.

I caved on the Karofsky redemption storyline. I loved Woobie!Dave on the show, so I might as well introduce him for later.

At the end of the day, this chapter turned out so much better than it was supposed to. I mean, what are these _themes_ and _motifs_ that keep being woven into my stories? I'm not doing them on purpose, I swear.

I hope that "NAPPY HAIR" didn't come off as offensive. I wanted something that better fit Mercedes' story, while still using something both colloquial and race-specific. If it's Mercedes choosing the words, she would do so with pride.

Also, I wanted to finish out the symmetry in some of the shirts, and it worked out nicely, which showing off different couplings: (Kurt/Santana, Puck/Brittany, Quinn/Tina, Mercedes/Artie/Rachel/Sam). I originally had Emma and Holly having a nice moment with their respective "GERMA-PHOBE" and "COMMITMENT-PHOBE" tee-shirts, but it got cut. I wasn't a fan of the Lucy Caboosie storyline, so I didn't include it, but I'm not necessarily rendering it invalid, though. The "BROWN HAIR" shirt alludes to it requiring the full story.

In rewatching this episode, I realized that Karofsky's nickname for best bud Azimio is _canonically_ "Zee", which I've been using for almost a year. #GleeStealsFromCreedog

The Quintana and Pucktana scenes were specially expanded for **ZeLuNatic22**. The whole thing's dedicated to **bs8** since it was a comedic episode. The constant Brittana interaction was for **pahke**; if you're not satisfied with this chapter, rest assured that the next chapter will include a rather substantial plotline, including a bump in the road for their relationship.

Off-topic: American non-premium television shows are usually 25-30 percent commercials. The message boards I read complain about how many commercials "Born This Way" had, but I always dismiss them as Europeans who don't understand how our system is set up. Then I did the math and realized that _36_ percent of the episode was commercials, which is well above the average, giving the complaints merit. Granted, I accept that they weren't given enough lead time to plan for the whole 90 minutes, but in retrospect, it was kind of disappointing, especially when the finale _did_ have enough material to warrant a 90-minute episode. It makes me wish there were some kind of system for releasing television shows completely on DVD, skipping the network entirely. Or maybe Hulu can pull something of the sort off. Those long-form commercials they sometimes offer are great for getting a snack before 45 straight minutes of program. And you could skip the parts you don't like. And watch Locker scenes over and over and over.


	23. Some Hot Dish

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 23  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. When the rumors start flying, every relationship she's tried so hard to fix is about to get rocky.  
Spoilers: 2x19 "Rumours"

A/N: At this point, I'm just writing to show that the story doesn't end when the alpha couple gets together. I briefly considered choosing a different album, but I decided that was more work than it was worth. I did however swap out some different tracks.

And if it's cause to celebrate for you, I just had to increase the chapter count to 27. I planned for too much for "Rumours", so now it's two chapters of gossip-filled fun.

* * *

Chapter 23: Some Hot Dish

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Santana tries to stop Finn from breaking Rachel's nose, but she ends up doing it herself. Ouch! Anyway, to encourage Rachel to skip the nose job, Mr. Schue and Holly Holliday decide to have the "Born This Way" week. Santana is totally into showing off the fact that she "LIKES GIRLS", which is probably why she decides to nudge Karofsky out of the closet. Quinn's still dating Sam, but sometimes it seems like she only wants him to win prom queen. Speaking of which, Santana is helping Quinn with her campaign, because she knows she can't run because she's with Brittany. She tries to dissuade Karofsky from running, but he totally misses the point of her argument and becomes Lauren Zizes' running mate. He also joins the GayLesbAll and helps with their anti-bullying league. Didn't see that coming. In the end, Santana and Kurt know he's not ready to come out, but they think he just might be ready to come out in a different way: as someone who "LOVES TO DANCE". But, at the end of the day, there's only one dance-lover that Santana really cares about, Brittany: "_I was so proud of you._" And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

: : :

"_I heard a rumor that Santana plays for the other team. And I can confirm that rumor. It's a hundred percent true." _

Santana was a little irked to say the least to wake and realize that her girlfriend, in another universe, had publically outed her on the "Fondue For Two" webseries that she was currently developing in this universe, too.

So, for the first time in quite a while, Santana found herself sneaking out of Brittany's room without waking her to say good-bye.

: : :

"You're mad at me," Brittany remarked pitifully at their lockers the next morning.

"No, I'm not," Santana lied. _It's not like I have any right to be._

"I can tell when you're lying."

She sighed. "It's stupid."

"That's a no-no word."

"I'll put a quarter in the no-no box, which by the way, we need to either rename or choose a new type of container." She admitted, "I had a bad dream. I was still in the closet and you told everybody that I played for the other team."

"Are we talking about the gay closet and the lesbian team, or like the place your keep your overalls and the glee team?"

Santana looked down at the overalls she was indeed sporting. "Good question. Let's say the first one. If I was still scared, dating Puck or Sam or—God forbid—Karofsky… or something," she added dismissively, "…would you tell people that I was faking it?"

"No way. You were so scared at first when Jacob and Coach told everybody. I was like even trying to help you keep it a secret, remember?"

Santana did remember Brittany's attempt at beard-growing, as it had caused a lot of tension in their relationship. "But what if it was _now_ and I still wouldn't tell anyone?"

Brittany struggled to answer, "I don't know. I wouldn't want to _hurt_ you, but I think maybe, well, what if I thought you were hurting yourself more by hiding? I love you and I just want to do whatever makes you happiest."

Santana's mouth curved into a sad smile. "I guess that makes sense."

"Plus," Brittany added, "Everyone at this school thinks my head's full of Play-Doh. I don't think anyone would believe me."

Santana nodded. "I promise I'll stop getting mad at you about thinks Dream-Brittany does."

"I understand. Lord Tubbington forgave me when I caught Dream-Tubby eating macaroni salad." Seeing Santana's mood improving, she grabbed her girlfriend's hand. "So, how many brownie points did I win?"

Santana grinned. "Mmm… eight."

"Is that enough for me to ask you to film Episode 1 of _Fondue for Two_? My mom has to work the late shift tonight."

"With some to spare."

: : :

_Fondue for Two!  
Fondue for Two!  
Some hot dish!_

_Fondue for Two!_

"Hi, I'm Brittany S. Pierce. And this is my new Internet talk show, _Fondue for Two_, which combines the two things I like most: hot cheese and talking to people. My first two guests are the school's biggest gossips: Mercedes Jones and Miss Tina Cohen-Chang. Also, my beautiful girlfriend, Santana J. Lopez, will be running the camera."

"'Sup, bitches."

Brittany glared at the camera and cleared her throat. "So, let's get down to some hot dish. I heard a rumor that Assistant Principal Figgins in secretly in a cult that worships _Saved by the Bell_ character Zack Morris."

Mercedes spat out a piece of bread into her napkin. "Oh my god, that's hot," she whined, "Is this really what they were doing in the Seventies?"

"Is that how they were dressing in the Seventies, Brittany?" Tina teased.

"Hey," Santana said, off-camera, "don't insult my girl's impeccable fashion sense. I _will_ go all Lima Heights on your skinny Asian ass."

Brittany made a few angry, clipped noises at the camera. "Moving on, Mercedes, can you confirm the rumor about Indian men?"

Mercedes's eyes opened to the size of saucers. "Uh, Raj and I have only been on three dates. How fast do you go?"

"Don't answer that, Hot Stuff," Santana warned.

Brittany just winked wickedly at the camera, thrusting a coy shoulder forward.

"Can I second that?"

Tina tried to get things back on track. "I didn't realize there was a rumor about Indian men."

"Isn't the rumor that they sing songs to make girls fall in love with them? That's what happened in all the Wallyworld movies Artie showed me when he was trying to 'expound my cultured liaisons'."

A faint growl could be heard. "Do you have a dog, Brittany?" Tina asked.

Mercedes answered the question, "Well, yes, Raj has sung to me as part of his _very_ successful pledge to make me his girlfriend…" she admitted giddily before shifting back to a semi-serious tone, "…but I want to point out that's an indicator of him being a singer, not of him being of Indian descent."

Brittany was already bored of the topic at hand. "Moving on, I heard a rumor that Quinn still has feelings for Puck. And I can confirm that; it's a hundred percent true."

Tina and Mercedes' shocked glances were almost not caught by the camera due to a sudden shaking of the frame.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"Brittany, why would you…? Are you sure…?"

"Uh-huh," Brittany remarked worriedly. The silence was broken by the mewing of Brittany's mammoth cat, Lord Tubbington, which Brittany was miraculously able to pick up. She introduced him to the camera and placed him on a chair behind her, where he began to hump a yellow-haired cheerleader doll.

"Uh, so that's happening," Mercedes pointed out.

"It's okay. Lord Tubbington and Lady Charity have an open relationship." She leaned in and held her hand up to the side of her mouth, to block the comment from her portly cat, and whispered, "Lord T has a crush on me—you know, an Edith Head Complex—but since he can't date me—"

"'Cuz she's **my** girl," Santana called out from behind that camera.

"That's right," Brittany replied, winking. "Since he can't date me, he's allowed to have an affair with Little Bit-Bit the Cheerio."

Tina jumped in, "Can I discuss the fact that Mike doesn't have a small—"

"'Kay, well, that's all the time we have for today. Tune in next week for a _Fondue for Two_ where we'll be the vicious rumor about mayor of Lima mailing badgers from the Ottawa to New Hampshire."

: : :

The next morning, the three former Cheerios were a sight to behold in the choir room. Quinn was attempting to charge forward in a rage, but was being held back by Santana, whose arms encircled the blonde's torso. Her target was Brittany, half-cowering and half-pouting at Quinn from behind a chair.

"Seriously, Q, this is kind of my gimmick," Santana managed to joke through teeth clenched with exertion.

"You told everyone I still have feelings for Puck?" Quinn screamed, "Why would you say that?"

"You _do_ have feelings for Puck. You have angry feelings because he wrecked your body by sneaking a baby into your belly."

Quinn threw Santana off but didn't continue her charge. Her yelling continued, though. "And you couldn't have clarified that?"

"I don't have allergies," she mumbled in reply.

"Brittany! I have a boyfriend now. Who _isn't_ Puck. Who is now _very_ jealous because he thinks I'm harboring feelings for my ex-boyfriend. What if I told the whole school _Santana_ was still in love with Puck? How would you feel?"

"I'd feel like you're a crazy person. Santana was never in love with Puck. Were you?"

"Pssh, no," Santana replied, indignant.

"Ugh!" Quinn groaned before stomping to the door, "Don't worry, Brittany. I'll clean up after your mess, like always."

Santana turned back to Brittany, who meekly commented, "She was really pissed. I didn't think she was that into Sam."

"Maybe it's about the prom queen race? She probably thinks a love triangle might hurt her chances."

"Can I tell you a secret?" Santana nodded, but Brittany remained silent. Now sitting in the chair that had been her shield, she made a come-here gesture. "Santana, there's other people in the room." She pointed with her thumb at the rest of the glee club, who were all watching the proceedings with rapt attention. Santana acquiesced and took a seat by her girlfriend.

After Brittany whispered into her ear, Santana face showed surprise. "Wow, well, you'd be the expert." She brushed a stray lock of Brittany's hair behind her ear. "Maybe keep that on the down-low for now, okay?" She noticed that her fellow glee clubbers were still staring. "Okay, New Directions, let's address the giant elephant in the room." After watching their expectant expressions, she announced, "Mike and Tina, I hear you two took the Oriental Express all the way to Bootytown. Let's give them a round of applause, folks."

Santana clapped her hands. Brittany automatically joined in, as did Rachel, whose instinct was to always join in on applause in case it was for her. Mercedes soon joined too to give her best friend a hard time, and Puck and Finn slapped their buddy on the back. Mike and Tina blushed several shades of crimson.

: : :

Will and Holly were sharing at pizza at his apartment when there was a loud persistent knocking on his door, accompanied by even louder, beckoning "Whoo-hoo!" calls. The moment he opened his door, something short and blonde threw itself into his arms. April Rhodes politely crawled down his body. "Well, hey there, Handsome. I thought I'd drop by and see my favorite show choir director." She smiled flirtatiously until she noticed Holly's form hovering down the hallway. Immediately she shoved him aside and scuttled to the taller woman. "Well, doodle-lee-bee and ex-_cuse_ me, is there a lady of the house now?"

Will cleared his throat. "Not exactly. Holly, meet April Rhodes. April, this is Holly Holliday, my girlfriend, fellow educator, and glee co-director."

April chuckled showily. "Well, your mama must have been as tipsy as I am right now when she slapped that moniker on you." She lowered her voice and stage whispered, "I of course meant in the epidural sense; I'm not at all suggesting your mother would have been on libations during childbirth, like my ma was, else you'd be touched in the head. I'm just kidding not really. Pleasure to meet you."

"Ex-girlfriend of yours?" Holly calmly asked her boyfriend.

"No."

"Eh…" April traitorously disagreed.

"April is a former classmate of mine."

"…who he dug something fierce."

"In high school, yes," he reiterated. "April is the one who purchased the auditorium for us."

Holly nodded. "So that's why it's the called the Whatsherface Civil Center?"

"'Gain, it's _April Rhodes_, and you'd be wise notta forget it, ya hear me, peach?"

Will gestured toward the living room. "So, April, come have a seat with us. You can tell us how it's going on Broadway."

"Well, I can tell ya it's going just awful. My all-white production of _The Wiz_? Bombed." She made the accompanying miming gesture and sound effect. The gesture was seamlessly followed up by her hand scooping Will's glass of wine up.

Holly wondered aloud, "Well, wouldn't that just be _The Wizard of the Oz_, except with rapping white people? That's never a welcome addition." She eyed Will playfully, who glared in response. "Maybe I was talking about Artie," she defended herself.

"Wow, Will, you got a feisty one here. Good for you. In fact, can somebody hand me a knife to cut the sexual tension in this room? Far too many sexy people in this here apartment." She gave Will, then Holly, the once-over. "But, seriously," she added, "can someone get me a knife? I wanna dig into this scrumptious-lookin' pizza from my favorite neighborhood pizza parlor the old days, Alfredo's, but I needs me to cut one of these slices in half. Gotta watch my womanly figure, you know what I'm talking about," she indicated to Holly, who nodded politely. "So, what's the topic _du jour_, or should I say, topic _du… noctem_?"

"Sue Sylvester… you remember her, the cheerleading coach?"

"Do I."

"Well, it's now _Principal_ Sue Sylvester, and she's restarted the school newspaper."

"I'm assuming you mean _The Muckraker_? A free-spirited girl like me would be celebratory, but of course a fuddy-duddy like you _would_ have your sexy, aggravated voice on. Now if it were _The Olympian_ coming back, you'd be beside yourself with joy at that dull old rag."

Holly jumped in, "We thought the whispering and backstabbings—"

"…the love triangles," Will added.

"…and questions of sexuality had died down, but the rumor mill has reignited all the drama. I'd enjoy this live-action _The Real Housewives of Lima_ if we weren't trying to get these kids ready for Nationals."

"Oh, yeah, I heard! Just 'cuz I've been living the dream in the Big Apple don't mean I don't keep up with the Lima happenings. Congrats. So, back to your problems: sounds like your club's got a touch of the Mac."

"The what?"

"Fleetwood Mac! They fought all the time. But instead of breaking up, they put that drama to good use and wrote great music."

Will grinned. "You know, I think I might have _Rumours_ on LP somewhere."

"Of course he does," April muttered.

"Of course you do," Holly muttered in unison.

"Doesn't everybody?" April remarked aloud at Will's already retreating form. "Not me. Sold my for drugs. Kidding. Nope. I actually did that."

"Condoms," Holly volunteered. April grabbed Holly's glass of wine and toasted her.

From the record player, Will remarked, "You know, I've wanted to do a whole lesson devoted to a single album for a long time."

"He loves his theme weeks," Holly explained.

As the music started playing, April noted, "You know, I'd love to help out. Can I borrow your boyfriend for a little ditty?"

: : :

"_Now here you go again/You say you want your freedom…_" April sang. Quinn knew she was just slinging her arm to point at the group as a whole, but she couldn't help but feel April was for some reason singing to her. She bowed her heads and tried to keep her eyes away from Sam's shoes.

"_Well, who am I to keep you down?_" She plopped down in Artie's lap, thinking the frowning boy need a pick-me-up.

"_It's only right that you should/Play the way you feel it_…_"_ Kurt cheerily bounced in his seat, bumping his shoulder with a rather melancholy-looking Mercedes. Mike and Tina likewise danced in their seats.

"_But listen carefully to the sound/Of your loneliness…_" Puck, whose mind had drifted to past happy memories of April, now began to frown. He turned to his side, seeing Artie looking similar downcast, so he held up a fist for Artie to bump, which he did weakly.

The melody began to pick up, and April belted a little bit. "_Like a heartbeat drives you mad/In the stillness of remembering…_" Quinn bit her bottom lip as she shifted her weight away from Sam.

"_What you had/And what you lost/And what you had/And what you lost…_" April sung, with Will on back-up. Artie hazard a glance to where Brittany sat, leaning against Santana, was tapping Quinn on the shoulder, whispering something to her. Mercedes watched this gloomily.

"_Oh, thunder only happens when it's raining…_" they sang loudly. Rachel playfully leaned over into Finn's lap, soundlessly laughing. Finn grinned down at his girlfriend before turning to his stepbrother, who was mouthing the words. He softly slugged him on the arm. Kurt slugged Finn back on the knee.

"_Players only love you when they're playing…_" Mercedes slouched over in her seat, crossing her arms protectively around herself.

"_Say, women…they will come and they will go…_" Sam noticed that his girlfriend had shifted over several inches away from him, with a troubled look on his face.

"_When the rain washes you clean, you'll know/You'll know_…" Will and April sang together, while Holly, seated on the piano bench beside Brad, frowned.

: : :

Mercedes slipped out of Ms. Holliday's health lesson, the look of illness on her face subtly morphing into a look of guilt. Skipping class was just another layer on top of her quickly accumulating stack of sins. She snuck into the girls' locker room and dialed a number. Even though the room would be empty for at least twenty more minutes, she still huddled up into a corner and spoke softly.

"Hey, Luke, it's Mercedes. I caught you between classes, right?" She jerked away from the phone. "Oh, so you saw that stupid fondue show already?" She listened for a minute and proceeded with the half-truths. "He's a guy I met through a mutual friend. It wasn't supposed to be… I-I didn't realize I was being set up." She listened for a little while. "No, that's not why I called. I was hoping to catch you before and do this right… You can tell them whatever you want. I'm sorry this didn't…" She pulled her phone away, looking at the 'CALL DISCONNECTED' screen. "…work out."

Deciding that was enough calling for today, she pulled up Raj's number on her phone and composed a text message, which she rewrote no less than three times.

"I need a pity party. Or an 'I-told-you-so' party." She scrolled through her contact list and stopped at 'Fabray'. "Damn. Haven't talked to her in like a month. God, I'm a worse friend than girlfriend."

She scrolled further and reached 'Kurt'. Her best friend was an ideal candidate, but lately all their get-togethers included both Blaine and Santana and, recently, Brittany. She now realized that she'd put Blaine in an awkward position. And she half-blamed Santana for the mess she was in. And it was Brittany's dumb show that started this mess (not to mention burned her tongue, which was still numb).

She scrolled past Santana's name, resolving again to procrastinate about changing her listing from 'Satan' and replacing the profile picture with something not graffitied with devil horns.

'Tina C.' popped up and Mercedes reasoned there was no conflict of interest there, so she typed out a quick message.

The reply came: _'_**Can't, date w mike tonite.**'

'**Cancel. I'll pay for ur next date. Really need u.**' followed up with,'**Boy trouble.**'

After a minute, Tina replied, '**Ok, we were staying in anyway.**'

'**Tmi.**' then '**Thx**.'

: : :

_And the songbirds keep singing,  
Like they know the score,  
And I love you, I love you, I love you,  
Like never before, like never before_

Santana was reliving her dream. Every detail was the same. Brad was playing the piano. She wore the same off-the-shoulder white blouse. Brittany was even wearing an orange floral wrap-dress—Santana had laid out the outfit before she snuck out that morning. She was crying; Brittany was crying.

_Okay, some of the details aren't the same. _Brittany was smiling through her tears and when the song was over, she didn't challenge Santana about not singing in front of everyone because… because she _did_ sing it in front of everyone. Though 'everyone' was remaining eerily silent after the song.

Brittany hopped up from her seat and pressed her lips into Santana's. She held the kiss for quite a while and Santana made no move to break it.

"Uh…" Puck was the first to break the silence. "You two keep doing that, 'cause it's really hot to watch. So, Lopez, you're my girl; that song was rockin' and heartfelt and all that shit…"

"Still wondering if I'm still into him?" Quinn asked Sam.

Puck continued as if he had overheard, "…but I'm not gonna lie; I was kind of suffocating on the love vibes there. I think that could have waited until you ladies were alone. And, added benefit: that hot mackin' that's _still_ happening…" which indeed it was, "…could lead to its necessary conclusion."

Santana pulled away. "Well, I'll be singing it plenty to my girl in private. But just in case anyone was wondering how into this gorgeous lady I am, now you know."

"Do you think that was directed at me?" Artie whispered to Puck.

Holly stated, "Santana, I can't tell you how beautiful that was. I think someone is in the running for a solo for Nationals." When Rachel huffed at the sentiment, Holly remarked, "Oh, _bayita_, you were never _not_ in the running."

Santana snorted a laugh, which she excused as a breathing exercise.

"Puck, Artie, I believe you said you had a duet for us?" Mr. Schue asked, realizing the need to keep things moving.

"Sure do, Mr. Schue," Puck answered, as he and Artie grouped on the floor with their guitars.

_I know there's nothing to say_

_Someone has taken my place_

_When times go bad_

_When times go rough_

_Won't you lay me down in tall grass_

_And let me do my stuff_

_One thing I think you should know_

_I ain't gonna miss you when you go_

_Been down so long_

_I've been tossed around enough_

_Couldn't you just_

_Let me go down and do my stuff_

_I'm just second hand news_

_I'm just second hand news_

"Very good, guys," Will congratulated.

"Speaking of songs being directed…" Santana growled.

"Not everyone's world revolves around your girlfriend, Santana." Brittany's head jerked about until Artie told her, "Brittany, our thing is long over, and we've both moved on, and I like to assume we're still friends."

Puck clarified, "Artie and I were singing about our most recent breakups: mine with Lauren…"

"…and mine with Genevieve."

"Aw, what happened?" Tina asked sympathetically.

"It's a long… odd story."

: : :

_Slap._ Artie's head jerked to the side. "Whoa, woman, when I agreed to roleplay the first time, I was expecting something a little different."

"I was telegraphing my actions very clearly. It isn't my fault that your predisposition to method acting due to your background in film rather than the stage makes your reflexes weak. Might I recommend karate?"

"My kicks have all the liveliness of a corpse. Can you remind me what we're fighting about again? I forgot my script."

"I have my suspicions that you're cheating on me."

"You do realize that the misconception of cheating is a staple among all mediums of fictions?"

Genevieve replied immediately, "You do realize that when one character replies to an accusation with a deflection instead of a denial it implies guilt?"

Artie was blindsided. "I forgot your special brand of crazy comes with quick-wittedness. I'm used to the opposite."

"So, who is she?"

"For what it's worth, I didn't cheat; I just flirted with a girl who did glee a solid."

"I'm sorry. Just because I choose to be overdramatic doesn't mean I can't choose not to be overjealous. They're mutually inclusive."

"I've got to say, Genny, dating you was never dull. Can we still be friends?"

Genevieve slapped him again.

"Could you have at least smacked my other cheek?"

"Would Jesus turn the other cheek?" Genevieve asked before stomping off.

Artie spun in his wheelchair and called after her. "Yes! Yes, he would! If you're going to live your life arbitrarily according to random proverbs, make sure you don't mishear them!" But by then she was too far away. He mused to himself, "I wonder if I could have tricked her with an elaborate lie based on the plot of _A Comedy of Errors_."

: : :

_Fondue for Two!  
Fondue for Two!  
Some hot dish!_

_Fondue for Two!  
_

"Hello again. I'm Brittany S. Pierce, and this is the second episode of my Internet talk show, _Fondue for Two_, which combines the two things I like most: melted chocolate and flirting with attractive people. My first guest today is someone very special to me: my beautiful, sexy, super-badass, super-gay girlfriend Santana Lopez. Since she can't run the camera, my mother, Margo F. Pierce, has taken her place."

Santana knew in advance why Brittany had invited her to her webshow, but she knew the girl loved giving surprises, so she was acting oblivious, grinning her award-winning Cheerio's smile.

Brittany's mom called out sweetly from behind the camera, "You're doing great, Sweetie. And I didn't know you two girls were together."

Santana's smile disappeared. "You didn't tell your mom we were dating? _The day_ after we got together, I had to endure a conversation with my folks that was even more awkward than when I came out."

"I kept forgetting to tell her," Brittany excused herself, "there's a new rug in the living room and it's so pretty that I stare at it for like ten minutes every time I get home, so I always forget to tell anyone about my day."

"So, do you want me to spread some gossip?" Santana baited, "I'm pretty sure Poppy Blackhoof is pregnant by that football player Kevin Mambo or whatever. Oh, and Coach Delmonico has been using her office for something very illegal, but it's not what you think."

"Ooh," Brittany remarked in anticipation, "put those thoughts back in your box. I have something to say first."

Santana waited expectantly.

Brittany seemed to lose her nerve, "But, first, I've got this raw steak which we're going to dip in boiling chocolate." She dipped her meat square in the boiling brown liquid, but before she could pop it in her mouth, Santana grabbed the morsel and threw it on her plate, while hissing in pain and throwing an accusatory look to the camera.

Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and licked off the chocolate. Santana turned back with a look of lust. "So, since we haven't flagged this video for mature content, maybe we should move on to whatever it was you were going to say?"

Brittany grabbed Santana's hands. "Santana, you are by far the hottest girl in school. And the nicest. Apparently, it's just to me, but I'm totally cool with it. And you're like super-brave because you don't care that everyone knows how completely gay you are. And I know you'd do anything to protect me, because I've heard some of the things you tell the footballs players you'll do to them if they ever thought about slushying me. I'm, like, half-mad at you for saying mean things, but at the same time, I think it's super-sweet. I love you so much sometimes that my legs get twitchy and I feel like I pulled that muscle between my boobs and all I want to squish my face into yours and never stop."

_Frankly, I want to be so happy I could cry, but damn if my girl isn't just too adorable for that. _

Brittany took a deep breath before asking… "Will you marry me?"

Santana didn't say anything for a while, her expression not changing. She looked at the camera. At first, she seemed kind of frustrated at whatever the camerawoman was doing. She turned back and whispered, "Is that really what you meant to ask me?"

Brittany thought for a second. "No, I meant to ask… Will you go to prom with me?"

Santana smiled. "Mmm, yes," she answered plainly, following it up with, "yes, yes, yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. Yes." She leaned forward and pressed a peck onto Brittany's lips. "And yes."

Brittany bounced in her seat, turning back to the camera. "Guess what, everybody? I have a date for prom and she's more awesome that whatever loser you're going with." She grabbed Santana's face again, but after a second Santana swatted her hands away, reminding her about the rating again.

"So, going back, is there anything you'd like to tell the people at home?"

Santana turned to the camera, put on her Cheerio smile again, and said, "Vote Santana and Brittany for prom queens." Her face went blank after that.

Brittany's brow furrowed. "So, that's all the time we have for today. Make sure to tune in next time for more _Fondue for Two_. I've invited Jennifer Love Hewitt to talk to the ghosts whose graves McKinley High is built on top of. Don't forget to subsidize."

Brittany's mom turned off the camera and told the girls. "I'll leave you two girls alone. And, remember, Brittany, now that I know Santana's your girlfriend, the bedroom door rule applies. Keep it _closed_."

When they were alone, Brittany remarked, "I didn't realize you were going to do that."

Santana was reeling. "Me, neither. It was kind of off-the-cuff. I don't even know why I did it," she rambled, "Listen, there's no way the school will actually elect two girls as prom royalty. And I don't care, really."

_But maybe I do. Fabray doesn't deserve all the glory. _

"So, um, I need to go find Lord Tubbington. He was supposed to be a guest with you, but I think the fame went to his head because he locked himself in the green room and I haven't been able to wash my hair." Brittany's bathroom was decorated with lime-green wallpaper.

"Okay," Santana replied, "Can I come over here tonight? My folks have a very different bedroom door rule and they've started to make rounds of the downstairs."

Brittany studied at her girlfriend for several seconds before answering. "Yeah, but bring a flashlight this time. If you step on Charity's tail again, I'll have to move to the guest room. Her lawyer is very sneaky."

: : :

On one side of the table in the faculty lunchroom sat Carl and Emma; on the other, Will and Holly.

"We've got a proposition for you," Carl stated.

"Is this going where I think it's going?" Holly asked, "'Cause I now I don't think it's going there anymore. But I would have been game."

Before anyone at the table could muddle her meaning, Will remarked, "What's the proposition, Carl?"

"Well, there was a miscommunication in our wedding planning."

"Ooh, is that on again?" Holly asked.

"Yes," Emma hissed.

Carl cleared his throat. "Anyway, when I was doing the wedding planning, I may have made a sizable deposit for a very talented Beach Boys cover band which I later found out was non-refundable…"

"And in my haste to replace most of Carl's lovely but anxiety-causing ideas, I may have spent the rest of our music budget on a band that apparently only exists on the Internet."

"Consequently, unless we were to change the reception dinner to microwave waffles and fried chicken by the bucket, we can't exactly pay anyone, so we were wondering if you two would be willing to be our wedding singers… for gratis."

Will and Holly looked at each other and looked back at the other couple. Will answered, "Absolutely. It would be our pleasure. Think of it as our wedding gift to the lucky couple."

"Were we invited?" Holly wondered.

"Yes," Emma answered immediately.

"Yes," Carl echoed reluctantly a second later.

"We haven't sent out save-the-dates yet," Emma tacked on.

"I'm actually surprised you didn't want to show off your own talent, Carl," Will joked.

"Well," Carl replied, grinning with pride, "the thought of singing a love song in place of my vows did cross my mind, but I figured it was a kind of tacky, 90s thing to do."

"Don't worry, you two, we'll make sure to assemble a full suite of _classic_ love songs." Will started to restlessly bounce in his seat and his mind began to wander.

"You were right, M&M," Carl noted, seeing Will's enthusiasm, "he was the right guy to ask."

Will was only woken by the buzz of his cell phone. "Oh, geez, it's April. She wanted me to run through a song for her musical with her. I gotta run," he kissed Holly on the cheek, pressed a hand to Emma's shoulder, and quickly shook Carl's hand.

"Yeah, I got to get going, too," Carl explained, "I left a patient in the chair. Always a pleasure seeing you again, Ms. Holliday."

"Holly, please."

Emma and Holly were left alone. After an awkward second, Emma spoke up, "So, I think we both know Will is completely trustworthy, but I would watch April. She's kind of…"

"Blond and floozy? Don't worry; I know the type."

"Okay, then," Emma replied. After another awkward second, "You know, I'm actually starting to find the breakfast foods at your wedding idea kind of intriguing. It would save a lot of money in catering and I know a hotel food service company with a perfect health record."

: : :

"Mr. Schue," Sam announced at the start of glee, "I have my song ready." Rather than sitting by Quinn as usual, he was seated next to Puck.

"Go ahead, Sam," Will replied, noticing his choice of seating.

Sam took his guitar up, caressing the ridge before he started playing a quick, complex melody, tapping the soundboard percussively.

_Listen to the wind blow,  
Watch the sun rise_

Run in the shadows  
Damn your love, damn your lies

And if you don't love me now  
You will never love me again  
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain  
And if you don't love me now  
You will never love me again  
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain

Several of his classmates, notably Rachel and Puck, familiar with the song from experience or the assignment, sang the countermelody. Quinn did not.

_Chain… keeps us together  
(run into the shadows)  
Chain… keeps us together  
(run into the shadows)  
Chain… keeps us together  
(run into the shadows)_

At the end of the song, Sam simply stared at Quinn with sadness.

"Sam…"

"Save it, Quinn. I saw you glancing at him."

"I was shooting daggers at him for _singing along_."

"Obviously he understood the meaning of the song."

"Obviously he _doesn't_."

Puck spoke up. "'The Chain' isn't about bondage?"

Sam closed his eyes, perhaps fighting tears. "If you'll excuse me for a moment." He yanked off his guitar and laid it on the piano to Brad's ire, and stormed out.

"Sam!" Quinn cried out.

Mercedes put her hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Go after him."

Quinn turned back and replied, "Thanks. You're a good friend, Mercedes." And with that, she raced out the door.

: : :

Santana was doodling on a pink Post-It note at her locker, writing 'B + S' above a sideways figure-eight inside a heart when the shadows came, encompassing her in darkness like a solar eclipse. She spun in place to be greeted by several football players, led by Azimio and Stromboli (or whatever his name was). Santana was quick to bark. "So, Puckerman and Berry are on guard duty today. That's a one-two punch to your jaws and ears."

"No, no, no, Princess Latifah. We're just here as fans," Azimio said with an air of insincerity, "You're practically an Internet phenomenon now. In fact, we're all just waiting for the behind-the-scenes cut of your appearance on your girlfriend's gossip show. You know, where the good stuff is."

"Go to hell," Santana spat.

"Whoa, whoa, don't be like that. Me and the boys here were just discussing how you're totally publicizing yourself wrong. Last semester, Puck was bragging about the private show you and Jessica Simpson gave. If you'd drop the feminazi act and embrace the more… appealing side of your lesbian-ness, you'd be the Oprah of this school."

Any drive to vivisect Azimio on the spot was overloaded by his suggestion. "That's an interesting proposition. But I'm not a porn star."

"You don't have to be Jenna Jameson," Spammo noted, "We'll settle for a little Megan Fox if we don't have to suffer Janeane Garofalo anymore."

"No more slushies? No more demeaning yet uncreative nicknames?"

"Think big, L-Word. Didn't you announce you and your little lemon bar's run for double prom queen?"

"You'd vote for us just to watch us make out on stage?"

"Get a little handsy," Spiro bargained, "And we'll make sure you win by a landslide."

Santana considered the offer for a moment. "Hey, it worked for Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, didn't it?"

The football players laughed and dispersed, leaving Santana alone, or rather, alone minus one person. Brittany stood in place, her face blank.

"Britt, what are you doing here?"

She just pointed to the space to Santana's right. "My locker's right there." After a moment, she added, "Duh."

"That's true," Santana replied, buying time, "You're pissed, aren't you?"

"No," Brittany lied.

"Yes, you are. I can tell."

"Well, why shouldn't I be?" she remarked angrily.

It wasn't often that Santana felt the need to take a step back, cornering her against her locker. "B, I just joking with them. And even if I wasn't, what's the big deal?"

"Santana, when we started dating, it didn't make us any closer. You're still my best friend. We still have our sweet lady kisses and everything. What it was supposed to do was make us not for-show anymore. We're supposed to be _real_."

"We _are_."

"But you just told those boys we were running for prom queens together. You didn't ask me if I wanted to do that, so I guess you think I'm just a giant Barbie doll that you carry around."

"Brittany, if you don't want to run, we won't, okay? I don't care about the race. They were just saying they would vote for us if we did. Hasn't this year been all about me being nice to people and making friends?"

Brittany bit her lip and bowed her head. "It's an easy way to make yourself popular, and it's not right. I know the difference between you making real friends and you making Facebook friends. I get confused a lot by the way things are, but you were supposed to be the only person who did use that to get your way."

Brittany walked away without another word. Santana was literally shivering with self-loathing, and she punched the locker between hers and Brittany's hard enough to make an impression. "Ow," she growled, shaking her hand and making plans to visit the nurse's office.

Her mood was not improved by seeing Quinn and Sam over their fight.

Quinn laid a kiss on Sam's lips. "So, we're putting this whole ugly rumor thing behind us? You know this Puck thing is in the past?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, "I'm sorry I was so jealous, Quinn. I just love you so much and it just seemed to make sense. I mean, what do I have with you that Puck didn't?"

Quinn held up her hand. "You have a ring on my finger. Puck… was just a bad-boy phase I had the summer before sophomore year that I was tethered to for two trimesters. The six months _we've_ shared, I chose to be with you."

"Forgive me?"

"I was never mad," Quinn replied, giving him another kiss.

"I got geometry. See you tonight, _lor 'eve_."

Quinn giggled. In such a good mood, she politely asked Becky Jackson for a copy of _The Muckraker_. "Vote Quinn Fabray for Prom Queen."

"Good luck with that. I think Santana is going to win."

Quinn didn't even hear this, because the rest of the world faded away as she read the day's headline: "Blondie Does Walk of Shame from Former Head Cheerio's House".

* * *

A/N: Also, I love writing April's dialogue.

There's no consistent fanon on Brittany's mom's name, so I went with my own, "Margo." She would be played by Lisa Kudrow, so the "F" in her name stands for "Phoebe", obviously.

Anyone else also intrigued by serving breakfast at your wedding? Think about it: Belgian waffles, Eggs Benedict, fruits, sausages. It's unique and quirky. And vegetarian/vegan/kosher meals are a breeze.


	24. Blondie Does Walk of Shame

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 24  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. Quinn deals with the aftermath of another rumor and Santana tries to get back on Brittany's good side.  
Spoilers: 2x19 "Rumours"

A/N: So, another late chapter. My apologies. I really had to work on this one to get all the pieces to fit. In anticipation of further delays, I've gotten moving on the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter 24: Blondie Does Walk of Shame

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. April Rhodes came to visit Will after her Broadway play bombs, and suggests the week's assignment: Fleetwood Mac's _Rumours _album. Brittany started her _Fondue for Two_ webseries, and tells everybody that Quinn still has feelings for Puck, but it turns out what she really meant was: "You have angry feelings." This gets Sam hopping mad, but he eventually forgives Quinn. Santana sings "Songbird" to Brittany in front of the whole class, so Brittany asks her out to prom. Well, after this at least: "Will you marry me?" Oh, Brittany, you silly girl. Artie and Genevieve break up, but Artie's not too broken up about it, because Genevieve's kind of strange: "Would Jesus turn the other cheek?" Oh, Genny, you silly girl. Carl and Emma ask Will and Holly to sing at their wedding, and they agree. But all's well doesn't end well, because Santana gets herself into hot water when she tries to get Brittany to run for prom queen with her and uses their hot girl-on-girl action to garner votes. And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

: : :

Terri was flummoxed to walk into the principal's office and see Sue and April Rhodes sipping on cosmopolitans at four o'clock in the afternoon.

"Ah, Coach Delmonico, have a seat," Sue welcomed.

"I really couldn't."

"Sit, Mulholland Drive, we're having our own little _Sexy and the City _soirée."

Terri shrugged unaffected. "You realize I cancelled a Cheerio practice for this? Thank you." She casually poured herself a drink and sat down in the chair, crossing her legs. "So, what're we discussing?"

"Ms. Rhodes here has written herself a play which she's about to put on Broadway."

April leaned forward and theatrically narrated, "It's called _Short Storey: The Tale of May Storey_. It's about a beautiful but diminutive high school dropout with an angelic voice who gets back on her feet after helping a struggling French teacher leave his harpy of a wife. She goes on to become the fiancé of a used car dealership owner. After inheriting his fortune when he dies of lupus, she moves to New York and produces a play called _Pushing Up Daisy_, about a woman named June Daisy who solves crimes by talking to ghosts."

Terri's only comment was, "I'm not crazy about the wife character. It's very cliché."

"Yeah, I knows, but I loves me a good love triangle. Frankly, she disappears after the first act, because, to be honest, I didn't know what to do with her."

Sue groaned. "If you two ninnies are done discussing the thankfully lost art of literature, I think we ought to concoct our plan to get Will Schuester out of this school."

"Well, why would we wanna do that, Sugar?" April asked, "Will loves it here, Lord knows why. Plus, he'd never leave his little stable of misfits or his bombin' girlfriend."

"The one thing that we all share here is that we all hate him."

"Not true. I don't hate him," April pointed out.

"Me, neither," Terri agreed.

"Yes, but we'd all like him gone."

"It is rather annoying seeing him every day," Terri noted, "At least deceased relatives have the courtesy never to be seen again, ghostly hauntings excluded."

"Well, why would I want him gone?" April wondered.

"Because you know he's the ideal candidate for the male lead of your play," the principal suggested.

"Phil Rooster? Well, golly, I didn't think you were paying me any mind."

"Wasn't, but I knew a wanton spinster like you couldn't resist incorporating a hot male lead into your show."

"Well, surely I do want me some beefcake to play opposite of, but that don't mean I want to drag Will away from everything he loves."

"Schuester's abandonment issues will be easily assuaged by the fact that he has a co-director to pick up where he left off, not to mention he'll see himself as some sort of inspirational figure to his troupe of _Hairspray _High rejects. Concerning Mata Hari, if she follows him to the Fat Apple, you don't have to feel guilty about breaking up true lust; if she doesn't, well, that means he's on the market for you."

April seemed thoughtful about this proposition, briefly turning her head toward Terri.

Terri sighed. "I'm over it, I suppose. It's kind of flattering that he keeps going after blondes."

Sue explained, "I'm having Joseph Ben Jewish run a story about how Holly Holliday is plotting a _coup-d'état_ on the club so that she can assemble a set list featuring 'The Cell Block Tango' and the closing number from _The Full Monty_. It's heavily implied that she's planning on winning Nationals by incorporating full-frontal nudity into the performance."

"I don't think she'd do that," Terri remarked.

"I think she'd do a live recreation of Madonna's spectacular 'Justify My Love' music video if she trick the school board."

"No, I meant she wouldn't do that to Will."

April said, "I gotta agree with Push-up here. Holly would be nuts to cut herself from Schue. That man's gotta have stamina, amirite?"

"He did have his moments," Terri admitted nostalgically.

"Please, ladies, I've already lost six months of my life due to brain toxicity from this conversation. The truth is irrelevant. Will has a history of leaving women who disappoint him after the slightest provocation."

"I faked a pregnancy."

"I fell off the wagon." After a pause, April told Terri, "Alright, you win."

: : :

Santana cornered Brittany at her locker. "Brittany, please, talk to me."

Brittany didn't meet Santana's eyes. "No, your behavior has made me cry inside," she replied, officiously, "in my special, angry place." Without another word, she walked away.

Santana chased her. "How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? I called you like twenty times and I left you probably fifty texts. Even if you won't talk to me, please just… let me know where we stand."

The blonde planted her feet. "We're standing right here, outside of Mr. Schue's Spanish room."

"Hey, don't do that. Don't pretend like you don't understand what that phrase means."

"You're still my girlfriend, okay? But you're my girlfriend who I'm still going to give the frozen shoulder to right now." After the rueful response, Brittany put on a steely gaze.

"I can work with that," Santana noted, only to have Brittany turn away again. "Hey, c'mon, don't run off."

Exasperated, Brittany whined, "Santana, I can't not talk to you if you keep making me _talk to you_. So, zip." She mimed 'zipping' her lips.

"Fine, Britts, don't talk to me. I'll talk. You just listen. Just because some evolutionarily-deprived cavemen want to watch us get our mack on is no reason to think our relationship is just pretend. In fact, I thought you'd be _happy_ that I was willing to engage in public displays of affection." _That's what you wanted in the other timeline._ When Brittany remained silent, but with a thoughtful face, Santana pressed on, "I mean, think about it like this: people kiss at the end of all those movies you drag me to, and I think it's your favorite part. And why not? It represents that moment when two people who have been _fighting_ to find true love finally get to express their passion in that simple gesture: a kiss."

Brittany 'unzipped' her lips, grinning. "It sounds like it's your favorite part, too."

"Maybe," Santana noted defensively, "But the movie people put that kiss in there because they know we'll like it."

Brittany then realized that they were smiling at each other, so she forced a frown. "I know what you're doing, Santana. I've watched a lot of _Law & Order_. Like three or four episodes. Maybe five. And you're acting just like one of those lawyers that convince all those people in the penalty box that the bad guy didn't convict a crime. You're just trying to make me think _you_ didn't convict a crime."

Santana threw up her hands. "I'll admit I'm in the wrong here and that I'm sorry. But I love you and I'm not too proud to beg. As you know, I'm a very, very proud person, so I hope you realize how much you're worth it."

"I'll think about it, Santana. Just give me a little bit of time to… have thoughts."

Santana sighed with relief. "I can do that."

: : :

Quinn and Rachel were not pleased. All the attendees of the Chastity Club meeting were clustered in small groups reading _The Muckraker_, pausing only to look up at their presidents.

"Do you think they're talking about me?" Rachel asked in a tone that was half-concern and half-hopefulness.

"Doubtful. Jacob ran a headline about catching Sam doing the walk of shame from my house the other morning." There was a certain lack of incredulity in her voice.

"At least he's not writing ridiculous rumors about how you're actually in love with him and only dating your current boyfriend because he's the illegitimate child of the Vice President."

Faith Jennings walked up to Quinn, holding a copy of _The Muckraker_. "Listen, I need to clarify something…"

"It's not true, okay?" Quinn snapped, "There's a very good explanation why… I still deserve to be the president of this club!"

"Co-president," Rachel corrected.

Seeing she had attracted the attention of the entire room, she continued, "Not that it's any of your business, but Sam and I are still chaste." She held up her hand, palm inward. "This is a promise ring. Not only am I promising to remain stuck with him, but that I will wait until marriage to consummate our love, okay?" She finished this with a glare. "Anyone need more clarification?"

"Yes, I was going to clarify that that rumor's not about me… either, I guess. 'Blondie Does Walk of Shame from Former Head Cheerio's House'? I thought that was about me. I babysit for the Clarkes. Their daughter Wynnie was Head Cheerio for… I think like five days. Coach Delmonico apparently has a crazy high turnover rate. Anyway, I'm very protective of my reputation, especially about… _this_. Honestly, I didn't even make the connection until my parents accused me of it."

Quinn wondered aloud, "Why would they think you're having an affair with a _girl_?" Faith had no answer for that. "Trust me. It's _not_ about you."

Her insistence seemed to perplex Rachel and Faith, but before they could press the issue, Santana walked in, greeting them with, "Hey, _ñoñas_, how goes the whole not-getting-laid business?"

Quinn snapped back, "I should be asking you the same question, Santana. I heard you screwed it up big time with Brittany. Guess you finally belong here."

"Heard Sam forgave you for stringing along Puckerman. I can only guess what perverse acts you had to perform, while still maintaining your technical second virginity." When Quinn turned a rather dark shade of angry crimson, Santana backed off. Surveying the disquieted faces of her friends, she asked, "Why do you ladies all look like someone filled your granny panties with gravel?"

Quinn answered, handing her the paper, "Jacob wrote an incriminating article about me. He doesn't have all the facts straight. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation to why Sam was—"

"'Kay, Honey, gonna stop your right there. Now we will be returning to this confession hour later, because you're about to drop a doosie. But let me save you blushing schoolgirls the trouble. The 'Blondie' in question is Britts. She caught Jewfro outside my house a few days ago. Article's about us."

Quinn reread the headline and blushed the deepest shade of pink that Santana had ever seen her. _And I've seen her plenty of shades of pink before. _

"Okay, everybody," Quinn announced loudly enough to be heard through the hallways. "We're all going to stop discussing that front page article. Which we've now determined is **not** about me."

Zira held up her paper, which was visibly flipped to an inside page. "We're not on the title page, poppy. We was actually speculating on the rumour about the closeted footballer. I'm thinking Puckerman's the poof. He dated Santana, din' he?"

"He wasn't my beard," she insisted.

"He dated Lauren Zizes," another girl suggested.

"That's offensive," Rachel noted.

"He went to jail. Just sayin'." Zira at this point was simply poking Puck's friends with a metaphorical stick.

"It was juvie," Santana remarked.

Zira wasn't finished, "I heard he snogged Mike Chang at one o' yer house parties."

"I don't know where you heard about that…" Rachel noted.

"And din' he get you pregnant?" Zira laid the last shred of evidence in her case.

Quinn was flabbergasted. "Why would you think that made him gay?"

Mercedes raised her hand. "Well, you did say that closeted gays tend to have unwanted pregnancies."

"Mercedes Loretta Jones, please don't add to this conspiracy. I can tell you firsthand that Puck is _not_ gay. In fact, he's a little too straight for his own good. I would ask you all to please kill this rumor in its tracks. Puck would be very sensitive about this and he doesn't deserve it, no matter what you've heard about his past. He's come a long way in the past couple of years. He's a good guy and any _woman_ would be lucky to have him."

"Maybe Brittany was right," Santana remarked under her breath.

"About what?" Rachel asked.

"Nothing," Santana replied. She noticed Faith eyeing her closely. "Look, I know where you come from in Utah, people like me are like zoo animals primed for ridicule…"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to express my apologies about you and Brittany breaking up."

"We did _not_ break up," Santana fierily insisted.

"Oh, gosh, I'm so sorry."

"'Gosh'? You really did grow up in YFZ territory, didn't you?"

"Hope you can get Brittany back," she mumbled before quickly looking for a seat.

: : :

Kurt was digging through his locker when a familiar voice greeted him. "So, do you keep all that wedding crap in your locker for kicks? Your folks got hitched months ago."

"Well, hello to you, too, Santana. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Eh, I feel like I've been neglecting you ever since Brittany and I got together. I can only imagine what depraved things Johnny Rocket has had to do to keep your mind off my conspicuous absence."

"So, you didn't come here for advice about this fight you and Brittany are having?" Kurt finished arranging the items in his locker and closed it.

"More to vent."

"Vent away, _chica_. Consider me your expertly-wallpapered sounding board."

"She's so angry with me… and it sucks and… that's all I got."

"My advice? Apologize."

"I did. And I'm still not convinced this is all my fault."

"The best way to approach reconciliation is to go in with that very philosophy."

"Fine, fine. But I am not turning into the man in this relationship. And you never answered my questions about the bridal boutique that you've converted your locker into."

"Miss Pillsbury became aware of my flawless work on my parents' wedding, so she and Dr. Carl hired me to do plan theirs, no doubt because of my exceptional skills."

"And pauper's fee, I'm assuming."

"I do work for peanuts," Kurt admitted, "Or rather the privilege of taking home all leftover decorations and food. Not to mention, I'm assembling a bridal entourage who will work for slave wages."

"Any suckers I know?"

Kurt looked Santana straight in the eye. "I need a hair stylist."

"For my skills, I ain't doin' it gratis."

"Rehearsal dinner is at Breadstix. You have five seconds to agree or the job goes to Tina."

"Agreed," Santana replied automatically. "Dammit, you found my soft spot. Okay, but if there's more than four bridesmaids, I'm out, and I reserve the right to punch the mother of the bride if she's snippy."

"There are three and I understand Mrs. Pillsbury is timid, so I think we have a deal. I want Brittany on makeup. I think I can win her over with a small mountain of sweets."

"Easily," she affirmed.

Kurt sighed blissfully. "All this talk, it makes you plan your own wedding in your head, doesn't it?"

Santana hummed thoughtfully. "You know what? I don't think I ever really did that, as a kid. I mean, I did, but I wasn't really imagining the _wedding_ so much as the reception. My folks spoiled my brothers and I with big birthday parties, so it was just another big celebration on the horizon. I don't think the boy ever factored in. Should've known, right?"

"I should've. I watched all those Disney movies and kept putting myself in the princess's place, getting to marry the handsome prince. Are you saying you didn't imagine yourself with the gorgeous princess?"

"Again, never cared about the wedding. I wasn't really a romantic. And I didn't watch much Disney. I watched my brother's _Ninja Turtles_ tapes."

"Ugh, you're impossible. Tell me you've at least starting fantasizing about your wedding in the past year."

"Yeah, yeah. It's embarrassing, but I didn't even start until… the Hummel-Hudson wedding extravaganza."

"And tell me, in your lovely wedding to the future Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, which one was wearing the dress?"

"Bitch, we were both wearing dresses. I mean, maybe I'll wear a wrap or a short coat, and Lord knows she's have some funny hat on, but I ain't letting no tux obscure my luscious figure. But I did imagine Puck in a dress."

Kurt hummed appreciatively. "That makes two of us. So he's your Maid of Honor?"

"I kind of think he won't agree to that title, especially if he ever sees that _Muckraker_ article."

"Man of Honor, Bro of Honor, whatever. Speaking of tuxedos, prom plans?"

"I'm definitely going. Not just because I'm definitely going anyway, but don't forget I got asked in front of the whole damn Internet. Granted, I am in the process of trying not to _lose_ that invite. What are your plans with Sir Warblesmith?"

"I think he knows I'm planning on asking him, but I haven't gotten a chance to. He's majorly buried in his year-end projects."

Santana scoffed. "Benefits of a public education: You can sleep through Computer Skills and still get an A."

: : :

Will and Holly walked into glee rehearsal to a shouting match.

Will stalwartly positioned himself in the center of the room. "Okay, guys, I think I know what's going on. This is about the rumor in _The Muckraker_about me abandoning you guys to be in April's play. I'm not."

Holly backed him up. "And even if he was, I think you guys know me well enough to realize none of you would be comfortable nude on stage."

Puck, Santana, and Brittany all raised their hands inquisitively.

"No way, Mr. Schue," Mercedes explained, "we know you're too invested with the glee club." She held back a snicker when Will subconsciously adjusted his vest.

"Plus, even if you were," Santana added, "I was chillin' with Bleachie McLifefail, taking shots of… Diet Coke… and she says her play doesn't start until July. You'd still have time to take us to rock Nationals in the… face."

"And we've got Ms. H to step in," added Puck, winking at the blonde.

"Then why are you guys fighting?"

Rachel answered, "Well, us ladies started a civil discussion of who would play each part _were_ we to be doing the _Chicago _classic 'Cell Block Tango'. I was arguing that, as the star singer of the group, I definitely deserved Velma's verse."

"And I was arguing," Quinn spat, "that my time on the Cheerios made me a much better fit for physicality of the role. She had the audacity to suggest I be _Lipschitz_. "

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Then convince Santana or Tina to switch. Pop and Six have major dance solos, too."

Tina spoke up, "Uh uh, If you're going to insist that Brittany be Uh-Uh…"

"You don't have the legs for it," Santana pointed out, "Plus, she can totally do _that_."

On Cue, Brittany started to ramble, "_Mit keresek, én itt? Azt mondják, hogy a híres lakem lefogta a férjemet én meg lecsaptam a fejét…_"

"That's enough, B," Quinn remarked proudly.

"How did she…?" Will wondered.

"They're just words, Mr. Schue," Brittany explained snidely, "just because I don't know what they mean doesn't mean I can't say them. Never stopped me before."

Tina continued, "If Brittany's Uh-Uh, I want Pop. Mike and I already know the dance."

Santana finally spoke up. "Look, Q, I don't mind being Lipschitz. It's just since it was kind of an unspoken fact that I would be playing Veronica during the Cicero verse, I'd be scrambling to get to my own part."

"You guys are talking like we're actually going to do this," Will remarked.

"Can't we do it later, Mr. Schue?" Quinn asked.

"No," Will refused.

"Sure," Holly agreed, at the same time, before appending her response, "maybe, but if you're going to wear costumes, they'd better be school-appropriate." She avoided eye contact with her co-director.

Will finally took control of the room and Santana found herself sitting beside Puck instead of Brittany, who'd isolated herself with Quinn and Sam.

Quinn whispered to him, "Oh, crap, I'm so sorry. That conversation… damn, I can't believe I got…" Sam brushed it off.

Santana told Puck, "You know, Puckerman, since process of elimination would put as dancing partners again for the song, that makes you Al the bisexual manwhore. Guess _The Muckraker_ was right."

"Wait, what?"

: : :

Will was sitting in his classroom, grading papers on relative pronouns when he suddenly realized two women were hovering over him.

"Holly, Emma, what can I do for you?"

"Well, firstly, _Ricosuave_, you need to review the difference between '_el que_' and '_lo que_', because you're about to give Miss Lopez a _C+_ when she deserves an _A_."

Emma cleared her throat. "We wanted to talk to you about this." She held up a copy of _The Muckraker_.

Will wondered what awful rumors were floating around now as he looked over the paper, only to realize it was the old version.

"I thought you realized this rumor was false from the get-go," he told Holly.

"Will, Puck wasn't wrong. If you wanted to take a sabbatical, try your luck on the big stage, I can handle the glee club."

"Will, it's been your dream," Emma added.

"Emma, you're the one who convinced me to stay a teacher not two years ago."

"I told you to follow your heart. You're a wonderful teacher, and I'd never want to lose you." She felt Holly's eyes on her. "As a friend. And as a colleague. But we both know that part of your love of doing glee to recapture some of the fame of your youth."

Holly bit her lip.

Will turned to his girlfriend. "As my co-director, I can understand you pushing me to reach for the stars. But as my girlfriend, I don't understand why you'd be pushing me to move 600 miles away for several months."

"We don't live in the 1800s, Pioneer Bill. We've got phones and Skype, which I will show you how to use, because it makes phone sex _much_ more interesting."

Emma cleared her throat. "Yeah, um, should I… go… somewhere else?"

"Plus, if you get lonely, it's not like you won't have a flirty blonde nearby," she teased.

"Holly, that's not funny. Just because you don't see any problem eyeing Dustin Goolsby doesn't mean I'm going to flirt with April."

"Yeah, I think I'm definitely needed elsewhere," Emma remarked, fleeing, growing twice as uncomfortable when she met Santana at the door.

Santana spoke, not paying attention to the redhead fleeing in terror. "So, Mr. Schue, Ms. H, I've actually got more pressing issues at hand, but I do want to say how awesome you are Mr. Schue and how thankful we are that you've taken glee so far and…" She checked her watch. "…and, uh… actually, you know the drill, so could you just assume I gave this whole touching speech? Actually, pretend Finn gave it. I gotta…" And with that, she ran out, a bundle of restless energy.

: : :

"Can I talk to you?" Brittany asked the last person who ever expected to be approached by her.

"Uh, sure," Faith replied.

"It's about Santana." Faith tensed but nodded. "Santana doesn't have a whole lot of friends—she's getting better, though—and you're the only one outside of glee."

"Okay, what is it?"

"She wants to run for prom queen—"

"She hasn't submitted an application," Faith mused, "but she seems like the type."

"I know that," Brittany noted defensively. "But she wants to get votes by promising that we'll kiss on stage."

Faith giggled. "Well, that's an effective technique. It'll only work on half the population."

"Don't you think it's kind of maniacal?"

"No," Faith said immediately, before studying Brittany long and hard, "Oh, did you mean… 'manipulative'?"

Brittany's eyes bugged out and she briefly looked down at her chest. "I don't think so," she remarked, half-scandalized. She shrugged and asked, "It just feels… yucky."

"Well, I'll admit it's not the most dignified of campaign strategies, but this isn't exactly a presidential election. I'm pretty sure Lauren Zizes photoshopped a couple of Quinn's campaign posters to make her look 5 months pregnant and to give Sam Evans a cowlick and buck teeth."

"So you think I'm dumb to be mad at her?"

"I'm sure you have your reasons," Faith remarked diplomatically, "I'm not privy to the exact dynamic of your relationship, but Santana loves you, and relationships are about give and take, and I do think you're being a little unfair."

"You're right," Brittany replied. Her voice then grew dark. "You _don't_ know how me and Santana work, and why what she's doing makes me so mad at her. And I probably shouldn't have asked _you_."

Faith held her poker face. "So, general consensus about you is that you're friendly to everybody if a bit tactless, so maybe I'm just the exception. Perhaps I don't have an adequate appreciation for Spongebob Squarepants, I don't know. But you're right. I'm not that good of friends with Santana. You _should_ ask someone who knows her better."

"I will. Sorry to bother you," she remarked politely. "But Spongebob is _awesome_."

Faith chuckled. "Maybe sometime we can try to get off on the right foot." When Brittany looked down at her shoes, she amended, "Maybe we can try a conversation where we're friendly."

"I'd like that," Brittany admitted, "This 'not liking people' thing? It's exhausting. I gotta go."

Brittany made her way into the choir room, finding it dead silent from a palpable air of nervousness.

"J-jail?" Tina asked.

Sam, his head bowed, nodded. "My folks lost their jobs and the only work they could find was at a local Mexican restaurant. One morning, they were pulled over for expired tags and the next thing they knew they were being arrested for smuggling illegal immigrants. They were just _carpooling_ with coworkers."

Rachel wondered, "Why would the police think they were smuggling Mexican immigrants when they were in Ohio?"

"No, the coworkers were Canadians. Expired green cards or something."

"So you're living with Quinn?" Puck asked.

"In the guest room," Quinn pressed, "that's why I thought Jacob was referring to Sam in his 'Walk of Shame' article."

"I leave early in the morning because Coach Beiste lets me use the weight room to work out."

"Can't your parents just say what happened?" Finn asked.

"Yeah, but they've got a state-appointed lawyer, and even though the charges will probably be dropped, it's gonna take a while: days, maybe even weeks, before they're released."

: : :

Mercedes was staring at the screen of her phone. When the screen faded, she pressed a button so it would light up again. "**i need time 2 think**" was displayed on screen.

"I'm pretty sure you're killing your battery life," Quinn remarked.

Mercedes looked up, seeing Quinn take a seat beside her on the lockers. She eyed Sam in the distance, reading a comic book. "I think I'm a cheater," she finally explained to Quinn.

"So who'd you cheat on?" When Mercedes couldn't answer immediately, Quinn nodded. "That's what I thought. _I'm_ a cheater. You played the field and picked a favorite. He'll come around, I promise. Boys are more forgiving than you'd expect."

Her eyes traveled to where the blonde boy sat, and Mercedes' followed her line of sight. "You really believe that?"

"I'm so sure that I will offer to buy your prom ticket and dinner, just because I know Raj will actually be doing so."

"And you're taking me dress shopping."

"I'll do that either way, okay?"

"Okay," Mercedes replied, looking down at her phone again.

: : :

"Hey, Sugar, you got time to talk?" April remarked.

Will looked down at his stack of papers, still ungraded due to the interruptions of the past few days. "Why not?"

"So, Pardner, this is kind of my walk o' shame, if you know what I mean?"

"April, I'm not sure I _want_ to know what you mean."

"It was me who leaked the rumor about you leavin' and Holly taking over glee."

Will frowned. "It's no big deal, but… why?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Will gave her a look that said that whatever obvious conclusion he'd come to had him concerned. "I wanted you for my play." The Spanish teacher seemed simultaneously surprised and relieved. "My luck so far hasn't been dandy, and my play's probably crap, and I figured if a handsome, talented guy like you got noticed, maybe when the play fell on its ass, I could ride your coattails instead of you riding mine."

Will shifted into teacher mode. "April, sit down. Do you know how many times New Directions has almost lost a competition, or lost one? Basically every time we compete. Do you know the insanity of starting a show choir from scratch, over a month into the school year, and promising to place at Regionals? We may not have cleared the bar last year, but we came _this_ close…" He held his thumb and index finger an inch apart. "…because of blind faith. April, do you know why I think you struggle in life? Because you have low expectations of yourself. The moment I instilled an iota of confidence in you, you were making plans to try your luck in Branson."

"That sure didn't happen."

"But you stopped squatting in open houses. Six months later, you're putting on a play on Broadway."

"Off-Broadway," April corrected.

Will was undeterred. "That's more than a lot of people accomplish, especially someone with a GED from Lima, Ohio."

"Yeah, about that GED…" April admitted.

"April, you believed that you could have success on Broadway and you found your way to New York. And now you're thinking of going again. Stop worrying about failure and you'll be surprised how far you get."

April seemed moved. "You tell your kids these things? How they're going to win Nationals?"

"I don't stop to think we won't. Our idea to use original songs will give us the edge over the competition, I just know it. What could go wrong?"

April just knocked on the top of the desk she was sitting at.

: : :

The band was playing an uptempo rock beat while Tina was walking from one side of the room to the other, less hindered than usual in a knee-length—but as always black—dress, bouncing along with the music. Mike was hovering around her, dancing in circles, gracefully managing to keep out her way as she strutted. In her hand, she held a microphone.

_Sweet wonderful you,  
You make me happy with the things you do,  
Oh, oh, oh can it be so,  
This feeling follows me wherever I go._

_I never did believe in miracles,_  
_But I've a feeling it's time to try._  
_I never did believe in the ways of magic,_  
_But I'm beginning to wonder why._

There was an instrumental break in the song, during which the couple danced together happily, smiles plastered on their faces, playfully catching each other's eyes every chance they got. Once the chorus arrived, Mike was gesturing for the crowd to sing the countermelody under Tina, which he appeared to be doing—softer, of course.

_You, you make loving fun.  
(It's all I want to do)  
You, you make loving fun.  
(It's all I want to do)  
You, you make loving fun.  
(It's all I want to do)  
You, you make loving fun.  
(It's all I want to do)_

Given the circumstances, Santana was less animated than the others. Brittany was seated on the front row with Quinn and Sam—a small sea of blonde reminding Santana of her failures. Brittany seemed to be bouncing as much as usual, but she was obviously taking peaks behind her. She finally seemed to work up the courage to mouth "Can we talk?" to Santana, keeping her face neutral.

The song had come to an end without Santana and Brittany noticing. No one else missed it, as the Asian duo chose to end their song by making out shamelessly against a dejected Brad's piano. Holly just beamed at the happy couple, so it was up to Will to dismiss the rehearsal, yanking the lovers apart and sheepishly congratulating them.

Santana, who was eager to finally talk with her girlfriend, was blindsided outside the choir room by Jacob Ben Israel. Brittany noticed this, so passed them by and took her place on the other side of the hallways, leaning against the lockers patiently while Santana addressed Jacob.

"Word on the street is that you and Brittany are having a bit of a lovers' quarrel. Does this mean your youthful experimentation is coming to an end and you'll soon be available for certain worthy members of the male gender?"

Santana's eyes narrowed menacingly. Jacob started plotting exit routes, but all the brunette did was growl sharply into the mic. "Listen, Jewfro, it's not 'youthful experimentation', okay? I am gay and I am also _very much _in love with Brittany, and like it or not we are going to be the reigning power couple of McKinley whose love puts everyone else to shame."

Jacob seemed rather unrattled. "So, it's true love then? You two are soul mates, so to speak?"

Santana was used to the déjà vu by now. "I'd say that was accurate," she replied proudly.

Jacob continued to ramble on about something, but Santana's world only existed to watch Brittany bite her bottom lip, unable to hold back a smile. The blone charged across the hallway and grabbed the microphone while Jacob was still mid-sentence. "Vote Santittany for Prom Queens. It's the only couple with a 'tit' in the name and four on the candidates."

She thrust the microphone back to Jacob, who remarked, "Oh, my."

"You should take our picture." It was more of an order than a suggestion.

"Jules!" Jacob called out, snapping his fingers, beckoning a stout black boy with a camera over. Brittany leaned over in a sorority squat, puckering her lips, so Santana bent forward, too, placing the corner of her mouth perilously close to Brittany's lips while doing a demure pout. The camera flashed, and Jacob dragged his photographer away toward the journalism room.

The couple was now alone in the corner. "Brittany, you didn't have to do that. We're not running for prom queens."

"Yes, we are, Sweetie. I just didn't realize how important it was to you before."

"It's not, honestly."

"Yes, it is," Brittany pressed, "I talked to Karofsky. He told me how you convinced him to run."

"I was trying to convince him _not_ to run."

"You said you wanted to run so that you could prove that the whole school respected you still. And then Puck let me know that you were questioning whether you were a lesbian. While I've just been screaming about your gayness from the bell towers."

"I'm gonna kick his ass. Look, Brittany, I wasn't questioning whether I liked girls. I am super hot for you and super in love with you, okay?"

"I know that," Brittany replied cockily. "Honestly, Santana, it's pretty obvious you want all up on this. But I figured out you were probably comparing yourself with all the lesbians on TV. And you think you're not the same as them."

"I…"

Brittany placed her hands on her girlfriend's shoulders. "Santana, it's okay. Me, I've always loved who I am: Cheerio, glee clubber, dancer, singer, not… super-smart person. But you, you've always played pretend for, like, your whole life. And that's why I like being around you. For everybody else, you just turn into the person you think they want you to be. But for me, you're you. I know you don't know who that is, or don't think you know her. And I love that about you. It's one of those things that makes you _you_."

Santana seemed more insulted than comforted. "So one of the things that makes me _me_ is that I'm mad insecure about myself? That's not something to love, Britt-Britt."

"Well, too bad, because I do love it. And because I love it, I'll tell you another thing about you. You're ambidextrous."

Santana scoffed. "No, I'm not. This hand can't even sext my girlfriend." She held up her right hand. "Wait, did you mean 'ambitious'?" she divined.

Brittany shuffled her feet. "Probably. That means you want to be everyone's boss, right?"

_Close enough. _"Yeah."

"So, _that's_ why we're running for prom queens. Because you're Santana Lopez and you claw your way to the top like the badass bitch you are."

"Damn straight… or not. Let's do this then." She held out her pinky, which Brittany took. Santana added, "You know Quinn's going to be _pi-issed_ at me, especially after I promised to help her win."

"Well, Quinn is ambient, too," Brittany's brow immediately furrowed, "Ambi-…"

"'Ambitious'," Santana softly repeated.

"My brain can't hold words," Brittany mumbled with shame, shuffling her feet again.

"It's okay. That is one of those things _I_ love about _you_. That your brain is so _genius_ about knowing people and understanding people and helping people and loving people that all the other parts got a raw deal. Except for the motor cortex; that part's pretty awesome."

Brittany disagreed, "No, cars confuse me, too. Fixing them… driving them… telling the difference between them and those carts that they sell snow cones from…"

"Sorry, the _dancing_ lobe. But, for reals, Britt, I would give anything to trade one brain cell that's keeping track of random historical trivia for one that could help me figure myself out."

"Well, maybe that's why you have me. And I know the most important thing to you is feeling accepted. You got people to accept fake-you and now that you're almost real-you, you need people to accept that person, too. The way I do."

Santana couldn't stop the wetness that flooded her eyes. "So, um, are you this good at making _everybody_ fall head over heels in love with you, or does it only work so perfectly on me?"

: : :

Santana and Brittany were the last ones to arrive at the auditorium, nearly fifteen minutes late. With the exception of Rachel, everyone was more focused on the fact that they were walking in hand-in-hand rather than tardy. Santana apologized on behalf of the couple. "Hey, guys, Mr. Schue, Ms. H, sorry for being late, but we were… running late."

Brittany remarked dramatically, "The janitor's closet is like that maze in _The Labyrinth_. You know, they called it something special; I forget, though."

Santana noticed a little blond boy and a little blond girl holding Sam's hands. "Oh, look, small things. That we're having this discussion in front of." _Yeah, and I could have predicted they'd be there. _

Sam explained, "Quinn's mom had to work this afternoon, so Mr. Schue let me bring them here." Sam's sister Stacy, under the scrutiny of the new arrivals, blushed and shyly dropped Sam's hand to hide behind Quinn's legs. Quinn spun around and pulled the little girl into her arms, moving even closer to Sam, looking very much like they were posing for a picture to be hung on the wall in the living room.

With Stevie by his side, Sam explained, "I was… or Quinn and I were listening to the CD for this week's assignment, and these guys had a favorite song, so I thought they'd like to sing it with us."

_Why not think about times to come,  
And not about the things that you've done,  
If your life was bad to you,  
Just think what tomorrow will do._

_Don't stop, thinking about tomorrow,  
Don't stop, it'll soon be here,  
It'll be, better than before,  
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone._

_All I want is to see you smile,  
If it takes just a little while,  
I know you don't believe that it's true,  
I never meant any harm to you._

Midway through the song, Santana pulled away from the group. In all the racing around, she'd lost Brittany's hand, but it looked like someone else had claimed it: Stacy was grasping her wrist with both hands. Brittany took the opportunity to pull the little girl into her arms, singing to her while the child shook her blond pigtails. At that moment, Santana couldn't help but notice the identical shade of their hair color, and how completely comfortable Brittany was around the child. If she didn't know any better…

She quickly banished the thought that was equally exciting and terrifying. She rejoined the group, singing the lyrics louder than before.

_Don't stop, thinking about tomorrow,  
Don't stop, it'll soon be here,  
It'll be, better than before,  
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone._

_Don't you look back,  
Don't you look back._

* * *

A/N: So I only included Zira in that one scene so I could spell 'rumour' with the British 'u' so you knew what episode I was using. Since there were no other clues.[/sarcasm] Also, I think her accent's getting thicker.

I suspect that I've created a bunch of locker scenes that could be named much like the canon Locker Scenes (Hurt, Dirt, etc.). Send me your suggestions. I bet the one at the beginning of this chapter could be the Curt Locker. Or maybe I need a new rhyming scheme. (Plead… Seed… Read…?)


	25. Serenades Never Work

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 25  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. Junior prom is fast approaching, and Santana now finds herself in the race, and all that it entails.  
Spoilers: 2x20 "Prom Queen"

A/N: Okay, so if I don't start streamlining these chapters, I'm not going to finish before the Season 3 premiere, much less add the summer series, much less actually work on my _Glee_ novel.

I'm in the home stretch now, so I'm kind of fatigued, but I'm working on three chapters in tandem, so it allows me to brainstorm, write, and edit as the mood strikes me.

* * *

Chapter 25: The Big Night, Part 1: Serenades Never Work

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Quinn is totally angling for prom queen, with Sam as her Ken doll of a running mate. Things are getting tough for them. First, Brittany told the school that Quinn was in love with Puck. Then _The Muckraker_ made Quinn think that everyone thought she and Sam were doing the deed. She was oddly concerned about his rumor, because it turns out Sam __**was**__ staying over at her house, because his folks got arrested. At first, Santana was helping her out with her campaign, but things are changing: "Vote Santittany for Prom Queens." Artie and Genevieve broke up, but Artie's not too broken up about it. Mike and Tina are totally in love, and so are Rachel and Finn, but none of them are running, so that's that. April Rhodes came into town and offered Will a spot in her Broadway play, but even though both Holly and Emma encouraged him to do it, he of course decided to stay to take New Directions to Nationals. You big softie, Mr. Schue! And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

: : :

Will decided that Nationals would be put on the back burner. Sue had insisted, due to budget cuts, that New Directions would be the entertainment for junior prom. It was a lost cause trying to get the kids focused anyway since even _Rachel_ was more concerned with prom than with the competition. It might have had something to do with the way she was talking Finn's ear off about her idea for _My Fair Lady_-inspired prom outfits.

Puck was talking about the "killer" post-prom party he was throwing at his uncle's house. In exchange for an invitation, he got Lauren Zizes to get the A/V club to set up a killer sound system. Artie asked him if he'd forgotten that _he_ was a member of A/V, too. Puck cleverly deflected with the point that Lauren was the president of the club.

"Isn't Karofsky Lauren's date?" Mercedes asked worriedly.

"Uh…"

"Guys, really," Kurt explained, "Dave and I have reconciled. We'll just avoid each other. I'll probably be too busy macking on my man." Without looking, he held up his hand, which Santana high-fived with gusto. Luckily, she couldn't see him wincing afterwards.

Puck continued with the description of how the house had a pool and how since they'd all be coming in formal wear, it was "suit-optional". He was about to explain what libations would be available, but as the glee directors walked in, he switched midsentence explaining how "due to the recent rash of alcohol overconsumption at this school, I have decided that the party will be free of the intoxicating beverages that cause such undignified behavior and detrimental aftereffects to one's health," according to the note written on the inside of his wrist in Rachel's handwriting.

Will seemed pleased. Holly remained suspicious.

Quinn took a seat on Santana's left side. "So, I hear someone entered the prom queen race."

"Yeah, about that…" Santana began, more apprehensive than would usually be expected of her.

"So, have you been sabotaging me this entire time?" Quinn asked.

"Q, listen, I swear I wasn't planning on running at first. I wouldn't win any votes by having an obvious beard as my running mate." _Trust me, I know._ "But then Brittany insisted. This could be a chance for me to recoup some of my lost popularity. I could use the self-esteem boost."

"And you don't think I didn't have some sins to rise above?" she asked her hands unconsciously shielding her stomach.

"Look, I'm a long shot, okay? I'm tired of talking to your face, so let's just say _may the best girl win_, okay? Lucky for me, that's Brittany."

Quinn twisted her lips. "Actually, she probably deserves it more than either of us, but don't think you're getting _my_ vote. Or sympathy."

Santana scoffed. "_Please._ I wouldn't have it any other way."

: : :

Sue seemed to be running the school via e-mail given the fact she was perpetually absent from her office, a sign glued to the glass door reading: "SEE FIGINS".

Santana, Brittany, Will, and Rachel stood in Sue's office, while Figgins made himself comfortable in the cushy office chair. "Now what was this about?" he asked finally, eyeing Rachel nervously.

"I'd like to run for prom queen," Santana remarked.

"Well, you're much later than the other candidates, but since there was no deadline, you can still give your application to Daniel Creek, the student body president."

"Yeah, I'm all on top of that, but I need your stamp of approval to change the layout of the voting form. This is my running mate." She indicated her girlfriend, who merrily waved. "There needs to be special instructions explaining to this school of half-wits that they can vote for two girls."

"I see," Figgins remarked reluctantly.

Santana tapped Rachel on the shoulder, and like a windup doll, she explained, "Mr. Figgins, I warn you that to deny these girls a chance to run together is a clear violation of their civil rights. As you know I have two gay dads who have _very_ close ties to the ACLU…"

Figgins waved his hand to cut her off, grabbing a gavel—which turned out to be a small cheerleading trophy—on the desk. The base broke off; he tossed both pieces in the trash with a worried expression. "Listen, we live in a very conservative town, and if one of those forms were to find its way into the wrong hands, we'd be in a host of trouble. The form already allows for open voting. The best I can do is to have the center line that separates the male candidates from the female candidates removed. If you and Miss… Brittany are the two candidates with the larger quantity of votes, you will be awarded the double prom queen status you seek. My hands will be tied," he explained coyly. _Coy_ on the assistant principal came off as a little creepy.

Santana was not sated. "People are still gonna vote for a guy and a girl if we don't tell them not to!"

"Then I suggest you make it part of _your_ campaign to get your fellow students to vote for you and your date together."

Santana crossed her arms with dissatisfaction.

: : :

Kurt was sitting at Breadstix with his boyfriend, beaming at the as-always uniform-clad boy. "Blaine Warbler, will you go to junior prom with me?"

Blaine was unsettlingly quiet. "Kurt, look, I'd love to go with you… I figure it might be fun except… I'm afraid it won't be fun."

Kurt was hurt. "I don't understand."

"When I first came out in junior high, I finally got my first boyfriend and we tried to go to a Sadie Hawkins dance together. Some guys… they beat the crap out of us."

"I know the way I've described my school makes you think there'll be a repeat, but I promise you, the anti-bullying league the GayLesbAll created has been very effective."

Blaine took Kurt's hand. "Kurt, we're still really early in our relationship. I like the stage we're in right now. I want to spend every moment I can sweeping you off your feet, and I can't do that if I'm watching my back wondering if I'm gonna get kicked in the stomach by that Karofsky fellow." Kurt didn't answer; he just pulled his hands away. Blaine persisted. "I'm not ashamed to be with you, Kurt, obviously. I mean, we're in a public restaurant right now. In fact, why do you even want to go to prom with the apes at your school? Let me plan an awesome night on the town for you, something that will put prom to shame."

Kurt wasn't sold. "You know, I believed all that stuff you said about being courageous."

"Kurt, I meant it. I've been through it. But being brave doesn't mean you walk into danger!"

Kurt got up from his seat. "I already bought the tickets! I already picked out a tuxedo that was going to turn heads! I've been making plans with Santana so that we could have an awesome gay double date before we showed up oh-so-fashionably late. For _you_. I'll see you around, Blaine."

He raced out of the restaurant, leaving Blaine staring into space.

The waitress walked up, "Welcome to Breadstix. My name is Sandy and I'll be your waitress. Um, do you know what the other gentleman will be having to drink?"

"He won't be staying," Blaine answered distantly, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to bring me a bottle of wine, would you?"

She eyed him skeptically. "I don't suppose you have your ID?"

"Diet Coke, please. You might as well bring a pitcher of it," he said darkly. He perked up for ten seconds to add, "And one of those delightful Italian soda. Blackberry. I cannot get enough of those."

"Would you like cream in that?"

"What do you think?"

"Cream, it is. Can I get you an appetizer?"

Blaine's momentarily bliss dissipated. "No, just bring me everything on the dessert menu."

: : :

Santana was standing outside the Home Ec room with Puck and his guitar.

"On second thought, this is a stupid idea," Santana remarked.

"Too late," Puck replied, using a dinner knife he'd liberated from the cafeteria to pop the lock on the door. He shoved Santana inside and started playing the uptempo melody. The moment her eyes locked with Brittany, she had to agree with Puck's assessment: it was too late.

_Her face is a map of the world  
Is a map of the world  
You can see she's a beautiful girl  
She's a beautiful girl  
And everything around her is a silver pool of light  
The people who surround her feel the benefit of it  
It makes you calm  
She holds you captivated in her palm_

On cue, Tina, who was sitting by Brittany, sang the echo to Santana's song.

_Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)  
This is what I wanna be  
Suddenly I see (Suddenly I see)  
Why the hell it means so much to me_

The rest of the song was a blur, and before she knew it, Puck was playing the closing lines of the song. She was silent for a moment. Then Puck shoved a sunflower into her hand and gave her another push closer to Brittany. "Will you go to prom with me?" she finally asked.

She didn't expect Brittany to race out of the room shielding her face with her hands. What she half-expected was the angry look on Mrs. Hagberg's face. Thus, she high-tailed it out of the room as well, leaving Puck to attempt of flirt his way out of trouble.

Santana easily found the blonde in the nearest girls' bathroom. "Britt-Britt…"

"Why would you do that?"

_In retrospect, it didn't work for Wheels either. _"I just… I just wanted to show you how much I wanted to go with you… and how much I enjoy being your girlfriend. I thought it'd be cute if we asked each other. I'm a _sap_, okay? I'm a sap because I'm with you and I'm in love with you. And I just wanted to show everybody that."

"You can't stop thinking about everyone else, can you?"

Santana's sympathy evaporated and she tossed the sunflower into the closest sink. "Brittany, I am not going to do this walking on eggshells thing with you anymore. You've been really hot and cold with me lately and I want to know why. I just serenaded you in front of your classmates and while I admit it's a bit corny, there's no reason to embarrass me more by racing out of the room. What the _hell_ is going on with you?"

"Santana, the only reason you did that is because you wanted to make people vote for you for prom queen! It had nothing to do with me!"

"No, it wasn't. What are you talking about?"

Her tone full of frustration, Brittany exclaimed, "Santana, I _know_ you love me! I've known for longer than you. But, lately, all you do is show everybody. I mean, first, you let us sing 'Untouched' together. And then you dragged me to Ms. Holliday so we could sing the astronaut song. And _then_ you sang your not-about-sex song to me. And just last week, you sang 'Songbird' to me. You might as well carve it into the Wall of Truth: 'Two Plus Two Equals Four', 'Dolphins Are Just Gay Sharks', and 'Santana Lopez Loves Brittany S. Pierce'."

Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's neck. "I guess I am being a little clingy. But I totally would carve it into the wall. Maybe in the cafeteria?"

Calmer, Brittany smiled at that. "Santana, you're kind of being a giant pussy. Of course I'll go to prom with you. And, yeah, I'm definitely planning on making your prom night totally awesome. But I want you to be happy, and to be happy, we gotta win this thing. So, really, you should just focus on using your sneaky tactics. I'm no good at that."

"Okay, because we're dancing together at prom with crowns on our heads. I promise you that."

_God, I bet serenades never work. _

: : :

At this point, back in the Home Ec room, Mrs. Hagbert was gone. Kurt was sitting at the front of the room, searching through a cookbook with distaste. Puck was flirting with a couple of girls in the back row.

Raj walked in with Artie in tow. "Hey, we early?"

"Nope, just in time," Puck answered, not turning away from the giggling girls. "But you've got seven minutes before Nick Ferreira comes in here to sing 'Down' by Jay Sean."

"Who to?" Artie wondered.

"Whatever junior girl will take him," Puck remarked.

By this point, Raj had taken a seat on Kurt's abandoned stool in front of a stunned Mercedes. "Hey, Artie, we gonna do this? Mercedes, I've got something to say and your glee friends were very kind to inform me the correct way to do this was in song, so if you don't mind…?"

Mercedes, speechless, just shook her head.

_I set out on a narrow way many years ago  
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road  
But I got lost a time or two  
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through  
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you_

_Every long lost dream led me to where you are  
Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars  
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms  
This much I know is true  
That God blessed the broken road  
That led me straight to you_

By the end of the song, Kurt was squealing with so much gaiety that he stumbled off the stool at the front of the room.

"Does mean you forgive me?" Mercedes asked.

"Yeah. I really like you, Mercedes. As long as you don't have any other boyfriends hiding in the woodworks," he joked.

"No, just you. I'm not that kind of girl, really. I just got… mixed up in something."

"Yeah, your friend Quinn explained the situation. She said you'd had a thing for me for a while. In retrospect, I did kind of overreact."

"No, you didn't," Mercedes replied, "But Quinn, she told you that?"

"Right before a rather persuasive and lengthy speech about why I should vote for her for prom queen."

"Well, she just earned my vote."

: : :

Artie rolled up to Genevieve McLaire. "Arthur," she greeted him coldly.

"Genevieve, I thought we weren't on bad terms. Blah, blah, blah, act break."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I see your point."

"I don't," Artie mumbled under his breath.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"Prom. We should go together. As friends."

"I would consider it. Friends are like silver and gold, and it's not like I couldn't use the money. Fortunately, I already have a date."

"How is that fortunate?"

"It's fortunate for me. I'm viewing life through my own worldview only. To do otherwise would recognize the non-diegesis of the audience. It's a theater thing; you wouldn't understand."

"Even though I know what all those words mean, I'm not 100 percent sure they make sense in that order…"

"I will be attending prom with Neil Norman."

"I know that guy. He's VP of the A/V club. He was on our Brainiacs and quit a week before Regionals. We had to replace him with Jacob Ben Israel. I'm pretty sure his glasses are decorative."

"I can appreciate a good costume," Genevieve explained, "also, as part of A/V club, he got us an invitation to a very exclusive after-prom party that he's helping set up."

Drolly, Artie explained, "For Noah Puckerman? Yeah, that's the glee after-prom party."

"Splendid. While I find that Rachel Berry girl absolutely repulsive, her tendency toward singing musical theater classics does mean I will rather enjoy the music."

"Well, at least it won't be awkward," Artie noted ironically.

"I would think it would be. For you."

"Yes, I know. I'm imagining it from _your_ point of view. It's called viewer-centered visualization. The audience is the only perspective you take into account when narrating a story. It's a film thing; you wouldn't understand."

: : :

_The scars of your love remind me of us  
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all  
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless  
I can't help feeling  
We could have had it all_

"Jesse, what are you doing here?" Rachel asked, sitting next to her ex-boyfriend in the auditorium.

"Enforced sabbatical. My first semester at UCLA, my grade point average fell to below passing. At Carmel, I always had some Asian kid do my math and English and scientific for me. How was I supposed to know I had to show up for all those other classes? Anyway, luckily my personal assistant-slash-roommate didn't throw away my probation letter from my bag of fan mail. To make up the credits, they've allowed me to do a work-study program. I've been visiting some of the most prestigious high school show choirs in the country. I would have visited McKinley earlier, but I had to work up the courage to come here."

"That's the first time you've admitted you were scared."

"It's probably the first time I ever have been. My parents raised me with a very controversial Saudi Arabian parenting technique. But I wasn't scared of facing you, Rachel; I was scared you wouldn't forgive me."

"Vocal Adrenaline smashed eggs on my head. The baby chicks…" she whined.

A passing A/V club member with glasses condescendingly explained, "Chicken eggs are unfertilized. It's no more a chick than your monthly visit from Aunt Flo is a baby. This is the second time today I've had to explain this."

"Well, I can't say I'm not honored that you've decided New Directions was worth your time. Though apparently not until two weeks before the competition."

"In my defense, there was also the issue of Principal Sylvester haggling my consulting fee down."

Suddenly, Jesse was on his knees. He took Rachel's hand. "Rachel Barbra Berry, I beg your forgiveness. What I did was inexcusable. I betrayed your trust and the trust of your team. Even Dante considers betrayal the darkest of sins. But will you be angelic and pass onto me some undeserved forgiveness?"

Rachel nodded. "Jesse, of course I can forgive you, but don't think that this means we're going to get back together. I'm with Finn now, and we're happy."

Jesse nodded. "I was expecting that. Not that I think he deserves you, of course, but I'm aware that my betrayal must have left you feeling quite vulnerable, and he slipped in. Still, I have to allow you any happiness that I failed to provide for you." He rewrapped his scarf around his neck dramatically.

"Have you spoken with Mr. Schuester yet?"

"No… could you please direct me to the choir room? It seems the everyday student doesn't know where it is."

"I'll take you there." As they walked, Rachel inquired offhandedly, "So, by any chance, have you spoken with Ms. Corcoran?"

Jesse paused before answering, "No, I tried to get into contact with her, but I… couldn't."

: : :

Mrs. Hagberg was in the principals' office with Figgins, Santana, and Will. "She came in and disrupted my class to sing a song to her girlfriend."

Santana had a frown on her face. "So what? I sang _awesomely_. And who cares who I was singing to?"

The Home Ec teacher scowled at her.

Figgins noted, "Thank you, Judith. I will handle it from here."

Mrs. Hagbert sneered and excused herself, muttering about quiches.

"Vice Principal Figgins," Santana pleaded, "this isn't fair. That old witch wouldn't have done anything if it were a _boy_ singing to Brittany."

"We don't know that, Miss Lopez."

_I do_. "Please tell me I'm not getting a detention from this."

"Not at all. I find it a very charming gesture, one that I hope will replace the awful acts of bullying. Our janitorial budget is down nineteen percent because of your anti-bullying league."

"So, I'm not in trouble?"

Figgin's tone darkened slightly. "Well, that remains to be seen. I'm afraid I'm going to have to reverse my decision considering your prom proposal."

"What?" Santana cried out loud enough to be heard at the other end of the hall. Will took one step forward in case the Latina was coiling to strike, cobra-style.

"You were supposed to glide under the radar, Miss Lopez. The point of making you educate the students about your double-prom queen scheme was that it couldn't come back to me. Or rather the school administration." With great gloom and doom, he announced, "I am reinstating the line between the prom king and queen candidates. I will be instructing student council to elect a prom king and a prom queen."

"That's not fair!" Santana took one step forward and Will two.

"Neither is the backlash I'm going to receive from concerned parents if I openly advocate this LGBT issue. The junior prom is in two days. If a few parents petition for an emergency school board meeting, the prom will most likely be canceled and _no one_ will be elected prom queen. And we will lose quite a bit of money from the nonrefundable deposits. You're lucky this happened so late. We might have had to disallow same-sex couples from purchasing pair tickets. There are some very persuasive conservative groups in this town."

Will finally stepped in. "Figgins, you've made your point. Now, in light of the rather trivial offense that she committed, and I think it's fair that she remain on the ballot."

"Fine," Figgins answered.

_Well, I've royalled screwed the pooch. My Britts' gonna be so disappointed. She loves playing princess and I've taken away her crown. _

_Let's just make sure one other thing doesn't go wrong. _"One more thing, _sir_. I've heard rumors of an underground movement to elect Kurt Hummel prom queen. If you dare read out his name, I will have your job."

Furiously, the vice principal spat, "Miss Lopez, you would be wise to stop threatening me."

"It's not a threat. It's a warning. You work for a vindictive woman who has a soft spot for Kurt."

Figgins frowned, suitably frightened.

Santana walked out of the office in front of Will, keeping a brisk pace to avoid his inevitable attempt at comforting her. She found herself in the library. She pulled out a long-since vandalized copy of _The Thunderclap 2006_ and opened it to the Junior Prom Court picture: pretty blond girl in a pretty dress next to a handsome young man. They were wearing crowns.

_Brittany would look good in a crown. 'Would've', I should say._

* * *

A/N: So, if this chapter seemed short, it's because I once again split it in half. I'll publish the rest in a few days.

Creedog, did you honestly write Artie getting shot down because your Brittana-lovin' heart took perverse pleasure in having him get shot down in both universes? Hell yeah.

One plotline I miss is the Budget Prom Foursome. It was sweet and I removed Samcedes, which a lot of people liked. I didn't originally, but it has its charm. Sorry, but it ended up on the chopping board the moment I set up Rajcedes many chapters back, before "New York" aired.


	26. I Can't Stop Loving You

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 26  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: M  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. Prom night arrives and with it comes more up's and down's than Santana can handle.  
Spoilers: 2x20 "Prom Queen"

A/N: Okay, so this one took longer than I wanted it to, but I spent the entire weekend in isolation to get the last chapters in shape for editing, so I'll still meet my deadline. I hope.

* * *

Chapter 26: The Big Night, Part 2: I Can't Stop Loving You  
(As For Everybody Else…)

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. Quinn and Santana are competing to be prom queen, with Sam and Brittany as their respective running mates. Oh, yeah, and Lauren's running with Karofsky. At first Santana was able to get Principal, um, make that Assistant Principal Figgins to agree to let them run together, but then when Santana sang Brittany a totally sweet prom proposal serenade, bad things happened. First, Brittany got really pissed and thought Santana was just showing off and turning into, you know, "a giant pussy." And then that old hag Mrs. Hagberg complained about Santana disrupting class, so Figgins had to reverse his decision. Raj forgave Mercedes for two-timing him and asked her to prom with a serenade, too. Aw. Kurt asked Blaine to prom, but Blaine was scared of the bullying, so he said no. Uh-oh. And, finally, Artie asked Genevieve to go to prom, but she shot him down. That boy just can't catch a break! And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

: : :

The Hummel house was chosen to be the designated meeting place for all the couples in glee, due to its size. Santana and Brittany arrived fashionably late in Santana's car. As they strolled through the Hummels' immaculate lawn, their dresses in garment bag, Santana apologized to her girlfriend. "I'm really sorry that I messed up our prom queen race."

The blonde moved closer so they could walk shoulder-to-shoulder. "That was _your_ thing, Santana. I wanted you to see that people liked you. And, hey, maybe you'll still win… even if it's not with me."

"Nah. That takes all the fun out of it. I stopped campaigning anyway."

"I noticed," Brittany remarked morosely.

"I'm letting Quinn take this," Santana persisted, "I have a feeling that she might go a little bonkers if she doesn't." _In the smacking Rachel Berry kind of way, which honestly I should approve of. I guess I do, but at the same time I feel bad about it. Damn, stupid conscience. _

Ten feet from the door, Santana received a text. Brittany inquired about it, but received only a cryptic reply: "It's from Puck. We've been scheming. It's a surprise, though." Brittany unsurprisingly became giddily anxious.

When they reached the Hummels' front door, they found a short, tuxedoed boy standing statue-still on the porch. Santana questioned sharply, "Blim, they teaching telepathy at your fancy-pants school or are you planning on knocking on that door anytime soon? Some of us gotta prettify ourselves."

Blaine looked like he was trying to compose a reply, but instead he just rang the doorbell.

Santana continued to harangue him. "So, I hope you're planning on throwing yourself on your sword. Gelfling was so broken up about your refusal, the entire club had to band around him to raise his spirits. Myself in particular brought _literal _spirits… of the bottled kind, you know. In the end, we finally had to agree to a big group dinner with him."

Before Blaine could comment, the door was briskly opened by Carole Hummel, who hurriedly invited them in. She didn't pause at the door and seemed to get back to the nervous bustling around she was engaged in. Out of the corner of her eye, Santana caught a glimpse of a crowd of mothers—hers and Brittany's included—sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and tea.

As Carole looked at Brittany and Santana, she paused. "So… I don't know how this works."

"What do you mean?" Brittany asked curiously.

"Well, I've been directing all the girls upstairs to put on their dresses and makeup, and the boys downstairs into the basement to get their tuxes on and style their hair."

Santana figured it her discomfort. "We've both got dresses. Were you wondering if one of us was the _boy_?"

Carole explained, "Kurt has been very clear that that is not necessarily how it works. Then again, the reason the girls are going upstairs is because _he_'s upstairs, so I just wanted to… check."

Kurt leapt down the stairs two at a time and saved his stepmother any more embarrassment. "Carole, we've set up two different rooms because we have so many ladies coming. Brittany, you'll be with Tina, Mercedes, and myself in my room. Santana, if you'll please join Rachel and Quinn in the guest room."

Stepmother and stepson seemed to notice Blaine hiding in the doorway. With a quick, "I'll handle this" to Carole, Kurt moved to Blaine. Brittany held back to eavesdrop, but Santana pulled her up the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt finally asked once he and his boyfriend were alone.

"If the invitation still stands, I'd be delighted to have the honor of taking you to this shindig."

Kurt remained poised. "You're kind of last-minute. How do you know I didn't give away your ticket already?"

Blaine astutely replied, "Well, one, you framed it in the form of a question, instead of just saying you gave the ticket away so you could cause the most harm. Two, all your female friends are in relationships—assuming I've successfully been keeping up with the New Directions Soap Opera—so I know you didn't ask a girl to go as your date. And I know you don't know any boys willing to go with you." Kurt couldn't hold back a smile at his logic. Blaine added, "And, for your information, I _wasn't_ being last minute. The night after I said _no_, I woke up at 3 AM in a cold sweat and immediately changed my mind." He whined, "You've been ignoring my calls, Hun."

Kurt pulled out his phone, finding a long sequence of messages from his boyfriend, begging for forgiveness, accepting his proposal, and asking questions about the dance.

Blaine wasn't finished. "Since I couldn't get any answers from you, I brought nine different colors of ties and boutonnieres. I even had Jeff help me specially select them for complete color coordination coverage. You should have seen him work. I swear there were two of them he was working so fast"

"Black tie, pink carnation," Kurt offered as way of an olive branch.

"Lucky me." Blaine pulled the requisite items out of a fabric bag.

"And you're not afraid of the bullies?"

"I figure you're worth the risk. Plus, I kind of talked to Finn the other day. He and the other football guys promised to keep an eye out for us, just in case. You'd be surprised what you can accomplish by helping them upgrade their dinner plans."

"You mean _our _dinner plans? Finn and Rachel are part of the group dinner," Kurt explained.

"That's right."

Kurt remained dubious. "So, you somehow managed to upgrade a table-for-eleven reservation to a fancier table-for-twelve last minute? How'd you manage that? Witchcraft?"

"Can't give all the surprises away at first. So, where do I powder my nose?"

"Guys are getting their tuxes on downstairs. I'll see you in sixty-five minutes."

"It won't take me that long." Kurt just looked at him. "But it will take _you_ that long."

Brittany often got lost in her own house, so Santana deposited her girlfriend with a squealing Tina and Mercedes and made her way to the guest room. As she opened the door, she rediscovered something about this timeline that she still hadn't gotten used to: Rachel and Quinn, sitting closely together as they helped each other with their makeup. Not wanting to get into the middle of it, she quickly undressed—Quinn made the obvious joke about her supernatural ability to disrobe—and redressed in the time it took for Quinn and Rachel to choose the right shade of blush for Rachel's complexion.

"And to think, this is Kurt's _emergency reserve_ makeup set," Quinn noted.

"I can't believe I'm the last one to get the spa treatment from Kurt," Rachel complained indignantly.

Without asking, Santana reached over Rachel's shoulder and plucked up the requisite items for her own face. "It's not like either of you will be needed _my_ colors."

The two of them just rolled their eyes and went back to chatting about their dates. Santana was thankful when Blaine's head popped into the room.

"You're lucky we weren't naked!" Rachel screamed.

"I _am_ lucky," he teased back, "I don't need that image burned in my mind on prom night." He turned to Santana and explained that her presence was being requested in the living room. She assumed that the guys had gotten into some kind of mess and need their captain of the League of Badassery. However, once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed that the boys were simply shooting the breeze while watching a baseball game, meaning she'd been elected the "boy" of her couple and had been invited to "guy time". She was about to give the boys a piece of her mind, except for the fact that the Indians were getting their asses handed to them by the White Sox and obviously needed a fiery Latina screaming obscenities at the screen. She caught Burt Hummel giving her an odd look.

"Can I help you, Mr. H?"

"Don't tell Kurt I said this, but if he ever were to marry a beard, I think I wouldn't mind having you as a daughter-in-law."

Santana didn't get a chance to answer him because Carmona decided to walk another batter, forcing a thunderstorm of screaming at the television.

Ten minutes later, Kurt poked his head in and announced that the girls were going to be descending the stairs _She's All That_-style. Santana raced into the downstairs bathroom to double-check her hair and makeup, because she was _not_ going to wait at the bottom of the stairs with the rest of the testosterone monkeys. She took the rear stairway back up to the second floor, hoping to catch Brittany before her turn. She barely made it, as she found the girl looking over the banister like Cinderella without a Prince Charming.

Santana's super-suave plan was to say something like: "Hey, Gorgeous, you look like you need a bit of company tonight." But this was before Santana got an eyeful of Brittany in her chartreuse gown with its form-fitting bodice, her golden hair in perfect ringlets, pulled away from her hair by a tiny top hat on her headband. So, instead all Santana could get to come out was "Hi."

Brittany looked up and raced to the other side of the hallway, catching Santana by surprise with a kiss. A few hundred flashes went off, and Santana was afraid to look down to catch whatever expression her mother in particular was sporting. So, instead, she extended her arm—_Fine, so maybe I'm a __**teensy**__ bit of the boy_—and escorted Brittany down the stairs, where they could pose for pictures in front of the mantel.

When finally forced to lock eyes with her mother, she noticed the woman didn't seem particularly overjoyed, but she was rather content. Rosa Lopez finally cracked a smile when Brittany caught Santana with a surprise kiss behind the ear. And when Margo Pierce laced her arm and whispered something to the woman's ear, the latter nodded in agreement.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," Carole finally called out, "I need all six couples lined up by the fireplace." Something about this comment made Santana feel warm inside.

The picture took forever to set up. Rachel, in a floor-length white gown and elbow-length gloves and her hair done in an elaborate up-do, wouldn't stop adjusting Finn's old-fashioned tux, complete with coattails, a white bowtie, and a top hat. Mike and Tina, matched in black and were attached at the hip, meanwhile refused to pose in any sort of dignified (or virtuous) manner. Sam and Quinn, on the other hand, were almost militaristic in their perfectionist posing, an obvious result of the two Fabray women thinking in sync about how to set up all the right angles. Mercedes was nervously introducing Raj to her parents. Raj seemed confident, perhaps too confident given the unimpressed look on Dr. Jones's face. And finally Blaine jaw kept dropping ever time he eyed Kurt's kilt.

: : :

When the limo carrying the six pairs of teens rolled up to Breadstix, Santana couldn't be happier. As she walked to the door, she pulled out a bib from her clutch. A few patrons visiting the restaurant stopped to watch in marvel as the twelve teens emerged from the single limo, "like clowns from the hippie car at the circus," as Brittany described it.

Kurt seemed unimpressed by the choice of venue. "I thought you were upgrading," he told Blaine, "This was the venue all along. We just barely made the cut for a table of eleven. I guess it _was_ some feat increasing the count to twelve."

"Have you so little faith in me?" his date replied, hurt.

Kurt was suitably more impressed when they were directed to the private room.

"The private room was booked," he explained to Blaine, whose expression told that the comments were unnecessary. "It was booked three months in advance. By the Golden Years Society."

"Well, those lovely guests will be dining at the Brunsman Room at Dalton Academy this evening."

Kurt literally pinched himself as he walked into the dining room. Lush, heavy, sparkly white curtails hung along the walls. The normal rectangular table had been replaced with a circular table draped with a snow-white tablecloth. Twelve individualized place markers sat around the table; Rachel in particular was beside herself because of her star-shaped plastic stand. Fine china was perfectly set at each place and crystal glasses.

"Finn's goblet is plastic. Don't tell him," Blaine whispered.

"So, at what point does a string quartet pop up?" Kurt wondered.

"I think you'll like what I've got in store." A line of teenage boys in blue blazers circled the room. Blaine counted his club off and then seated his date, leaving Wes to sing lead.

_So you leavin' in  
__the mornin'  
__on the early train._

_Well I could say  
__Everything's all right  
__And I could pretend  
__And say goodbye_

_Got your ticket  
__Got your suitcase  
__Got your leaving smile_

_Oh I could say that's the way it goes  
And I could pretend you won't know  
__That I was lying..._

_Cuz I can't stop loving you  
No, I can't stop loving you  
No, I won't stop loving you  
Why should I?_

Brittany couldn't stop watching Santana all night. She'd never seen the girl smile so much, at least in public. The brunette chatted with Kurt, who was on her other side. Her teasing of Rachel was significantly less vicious than usual. She was trading barbs with Quinn about which one of them was going to win prom queen. She only called Mercedes "Wheezy" once and it was done so in an affectionate tone. Yes, she rolled her eyes back constantly, but she also followed up each groan with a chuckle.

Every moment that their hands weren't occupied, she laced her fingers with Santana's. Perhaps it would be a good night.

: : :

The limo then took the twelvesome to McKinley High. It took Santana a moment to realize what was going on when Finn, Rachel, Sam, and Quinn speed-walked forward, but it became fairly obvious that the heterosexual couples had formed a box around her, Brittany, Kurt, and Blaine.

When they entered the gym, the first thing everyone noticed was Puck leaving a girl and scanning the room for another one. When his eyes fell on the group, he ran over and complimented the females individually and the guys with a single "Looking good, bros." When asked about his dance partner, he couldn't remember the girl's name. "I'm just cruising around, stealing dates as I see fit. Catch and release. Like fishing."

"Or blacksmithing," Brittany remarked, "I approve." She held up her hand for a high-five, which Puck slapped. "So, Lopez, since when are you the _girl_ in this relationship? That's new."

"I can't win."

The rest of the prom progressed as well as could be expected. Rachel dragged Finn on stage so she could serenade him with Alanis Morrissette's "Head Over Feet", which, luckily for the club, the rest of the school considered a slow song.

_Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole  
You're so much braver than I gave you credit for  
That's not lip service_

_You've already won me over in spite of me  
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet  
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are  
I couldn't help it  
It's all your fault_

Instead of chaperoning, Will and Holly danced, as did Emma and Carl. This left Beiste alone to deal with the inebriated hockey players trying to climb onto the basketball goals. Sue was perched near the punch bowl, eyeing every student who came within five feet of it. Plenty of thirsty-looking prom-goers simply avoided the beverage table all together.

Santana danced with Brittany. Tina danced with Mike. Mercedes danced with Raj. Puck managed to sandwich himself between a shapely Hispanic girl who was wearing the same dress as Santana and a petite brunette in a black pant suit. Quinn danced with Sam, but spent much of the time soliciting votes from passing couples, to Sam's chagrin. Brittany noticed Santana eyeing the industrious blonde. "Do you wish you were doing that?"

"Begging for scraps like a stray puppy? Nah. Would it have been awesome to win? Sure, but I wouldn't want to be up there without you. We're a package deal."

The package deal was soon dragged onto stage by Blaine to back him up on "I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You". He thought it was only appropriate.

_The word's on the streets and it's on the news:  
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you.  
He's got two left feet and he bites my moves.  
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance  
(Dance, dance, dance, dance)  
The second I do, I know we're gonna be through.  
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you.  
He don't suspect a thing. I wish he'd get a clue.  
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance_

_(Dance, dance, dance, dance)_

Midway through the song, Puck somehow scooped Tina out of Mike's arms and began grinding against her ass. She was unable to escape as his hands were firmly planted on her hips, and Mike had to pry them off and shove him away. He winked at Tina as he left, pulling Becky Jackson away from her date.

The junior girls of McKinley were given a reprieve from Puck (some gladly, some sadly) when it was time for him to sing "Friday" with Sam and Artie. Quinn cheered on her boyfriend, but seemed a little miffed at all the laughter accompanying the dancing. A whole mess of girls were cheering on Puck.

_Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)  
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)  
Fun, fun, fun, fun  
Lookin' forward to the weekend_

After the song, Puck was grabbed by Wynnie Clarke, and Sam by Quinn, who looped his arm into her and started making rounds. Artie rolled down the ramp, and just looked around the room, discouraged.

He picked Genevieve out of the crowd, dancing with her lanky redhead of a date, though seemingly oblivious to his presence. The feeling was apparently mutual, as they broke apart when he apparently spotted his best buddy and went over to chest-bump him. Genevieve, to her credit, simply shrugged it off and went to talk to talk to the Hispanic girl Puck was accosting earlier.

Artie was tapped on the shoulder. He was surprised to find Gino Clarke, a sophomore from the football team, standing before him with a tiny Filipina girl wearing a sundress that was two sizes too large. Gino immediately excused himself, saying he had to save his sister's innocence from Puck.

"I don't understand."

Sunshine explained, "Carmel freshmen don't get to go to their prom, much less the Vocal Adrenaline singers."

Before she could finish her explanation, Puck returned, with a black eye and sans a date. "Sorry, almost got into a fight with Gino and now I'm hiding from Sylvester." Sure enough, Sue had left her post at the punch bowl and was now prowling the dance floor, muttering to herself about how it shouldn't have been so hard to track down the only kid in school with a Mohawk. Puck eyed Sunshine with the same expression he'd been using all night. "I need the package arrived. The Legion of Badassery strikes again."

"I was 'liberated' from a twelve-hour Saturday practice," Sunshine continued, "I heard you didn't have a date."

"Well," Artie remarked, holding out his hand, "maybe I do now." Sunshine nodded and took his hand. Artie turned to Puck. "Not that I don't appreciate this, but why go through the trouble?"

"'Cause some of us don't get what we want," Puck explained, his eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on where Quinn and Sam were having a heated discussion.

Sam screamed, "Quinn, can you lay off the campaigning for one second? They'll be announcing the winners any minute!"

"I don't know if the voting has closed and that's all the more reason to get those final swing votes. Now lower your voice. I don't want to lose because my date gets kicked out."

"You know, I don't give a frack about being prom king. I just wanted you to be happy. But _this_ is insane. You've ignored me all night."

"Seeing that I had to pay for everything, I think the least you could do is play along until we win!"

Sam just stared at Quinn's face, now crumbling with guilt. "Sorry for being poor, Quinnie," he whispered, "I thought my love was enough. Guess not." And with that he walked out the door.

"Sam! Come back! I didn't mean that!" she screamed in shocked hysterics, "They're going to announce…" She trailed off as Principal Figgins invited all the candidates on stage. Torn between chasing after her date and walking to the stage, she chose the stage.

Quinn was the last one up, so she got to size up her competition. Most prominent was Lauren Zizes, dressed in her royal blue gown. Dave Karofsky stood opposite of her, looking untypically sharp in his black tuxedo with matching blue tie. She saw Brittany and Santana next to each other, their hips flush, laughing with each other with zero apparent interest in the race. Rebekah Cole, the current (as of last Tuesday) Head Cheerio, finished out the lineup.

Vice Princiapl Figgins was handed two envelopes by Daniel Creek, the student body president, who descended the stairs and took his place beside Faith Jennings.

Figgins pulled out the "Prom King" envelope first, but Santana cleared her throat, and seeing his burning gaze of all the female candidates (Brittany excluded, who was too distracted by Santana's neckline), wisely replaced it with the other envelope. "This year's prom queen is…"

For Quinn, the room went silent. Even though she was millisecond from discovering whether she'd won, she couldn't help but try to gauge the audience. Were they looking at her? Too many were obviously watching Figgins, which didn't help.

Santana was begging beyond hope that there would be two names on the card, but she could see a single line of script from here. She even recognized the shape of the name even if she couldn't make out the words.

Lauren realized that she'd probably get expelled if she put the vice principal in a headlock, if he didn't read her name.

Rebekah couldn't get "Friday" out of her head.

Brittany was fixated on Santana's ruffled strap, which is why she didn't hear the winner's name being called.

"…Brittany S. Pierce."

She felt Santana shaking her shoulder, though. "B, you won."

"What?" She looked up and saw Figgins, and the rest of the junior class, watching her. "I'm sorry," she tried to tell Santana.

Santana laid a quick kiss on her lips, grinning ear to ear. "No no no. Go up there! I'm ecstatic! My girlfriend's the queen of the school!"

After a quick shove from her girlfriend, Brittany made her way over to Figgins, taking the tiara and scepter she'd won.

Santana turned to Quinn. "Sorry, Q. Since we couldn't win together, we really were rooting for you. We even voted for you and Fish Lips."

Quinn seemed sullen. "I appreciate that. I'm happy for B, though, really." Her smile was forced though.

"Yeah, my girl's too awesome. Being third best isn't so bad, Fabray."

Quinn rolled her eyes. The smile on her face became still, though, and her breathing heavy.

Figgins was opening the next envelope. "And your 2011 Junior Prom King is…" This time, time didn't stop for any of the contestants. It stopped for the whole room as the vice principal studied the card. He cleared his throat. "Apparently, there has been a mixup. Give me one moment to speak with your student body council…"

Brittany tilted her head over and called out softly to her girlfriend. "Santana, it's got your name on it." Unfortunately, she was standing right in front of the microphone and her voice echoed through the room. "That's dumb. You're not a boy." Realization hit her and she frowned and growled at the school. "This isn't funny!" But there wasn't any laughter in the room, just silence.

Behind her, Santana rushed off. Brittany, only catching the sight out of the corner of her eye, paused to get her bearings before chasing after her, passing the stone-still Figgins, who skipped his talk to Daniel and rushed to Beiste to inquire about Will's whearabouts so that he could sing his number early, but neither he nor his co-director could be located.

In all the commotion, Quinn didn't see the figure behind her, yanking her behind the curtain. It was Sam, who wordlessly grabbed her hand and dropped a small item into it: a shiny, silver men's ring. "I think we need to take a break," is all he said.

At first, Quinn didn't react. She remained stoic. But eventually her perfectly poised face cracked. She pulled off her promise ring and threw it Sam. "I guess this night can't get any worse." She ran off.

Down below, Kurt and Blaine looked at each other. "Someone ought to do something," Kurt muttered aloud.

"Yeah… someone," Blaine repeated before racing on stage, passing Brittany on the steps. Despite the situation, they still waved at each other. He got in front of the mic and proclaimed, "You know, it's really awful the kind of things we do those who are different from us. You know what you all are? Scared little bullies who—"

He didn't get any further than that. Azimio and Strando came up behind him with the punch bowl in hand and dumped the liquid onto Blaine, drenching him.

"I smell like a lemon," he muttered finally, staring blankly into the audience, "If you'll excuse me…" He, too, raced off.

: : :

Brittany raced into the choir room, all the while trying to untangle her tiara from her headband. She found Santana pacing the room, mumbling to herself. "I should have seen this coming. Stupid dreams. I should've _known_. Why do I bother? I save Kurt and _I_ get hurt."

At first, Brittany didn't say a word; she just wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and held her tightly. Within seconds, Santana was bawling so hard she was wheezing. "Let it out, Sweetie," the blonde whispered.

"Why does everyone hate me?" Santana asked.

"Does everyone hate me?" Quinn asked the mirror in the girl's bathroom.

"Why do people hate us?" Blaine asked Kurt as he threw open the gym door and stomped out.

"Honey…" Brittany cooed when Santana finally calmed down. When the brunette's eyes looked up at the tiara, the blonde added, "I tried to take it off, I did, but it's stuck in my headband."

"I don't care; you deserved it."

"You don't deserve this, though," Brittany remarked.

"You didn't deserve that," Puck told Quinn, as she finished wiping her dripping mascara from her face at the sink.

"This is the girls' bathroom," Quinn noted.

"So the hell what? Ladies sit down to do their business in private stalls. I can't see nothing. And it wouldn't be nothing I haven't seen before."

In one stall, a girl lifted her legs to pull her underwear out of view.

"Why are you here, Puck?" Quinn asked.

"You seemed sad."

"You shouldn't be here. You're gonna get in trouble, Puck, let's just go back into the hallway," Quinn suggested.

"I shouldn't be here," Blaine cried to Kurt, "I knew this was gonna be trouble. Let's just go." He continued to stride down a random hallway, too frazzled to get his bearings.

"Seriously, how are you so fast? My legs are longer," a pursuing Kurt mumbled, catching his boyfriend's arm. "Look, it's just a little punch. I've had much worse."

"I knew this was going to happen, Kurt! Again!"

Kurt grabbed Blaine's shoulders a pinned the shorter boy into the nearby lockers. "You look rather not-beat up to me. And, I must say, you did draw attention to yourself."

Blaine scowled. "Are you saying this is my fault? That I shouldn't have said anything?"

"No," Kurt pressed, "I'd be a hypocrite for saying so, seeing that I'm wearing a skirt. Your speech was amazing, Blaine, or at least it sounded like it was gonna be. Made me all warm and fuzzy for like the sixth time tonight. You're quite the charmer, you know."

Blaine had to chuckle at that. "You know all those 'It Gets Better' videos?" he brought up.

"Of course."

"I believe them. I really do. I just… why can't the world change faster?"

Kurt shrugged and took a seat beside Blaine. "I've found most people's minds don't just change. Dumb people just eventually… die. Consider yourself lucky. We're the first generation to see same-sex marriage."

"How can you be so positive?"

Kurt bumped his shoulder into Blaine's. "I learned it from my very wise boyfriend."

Blaine chuckled. "Tell me more about this guru of gayness."

"Oh, he's quite handsome, too, if you're into _petits charmeurs_." He laid a kiss on Blaine's cheek, but Blaine put his hand on Kurt's cheek so he couldn't move his head away, laying another kiss on his boyfriend's lips.

"You wanna get out of here?" Blaine asked.

"Out of Lima? That's happening the _second_ I graduate. As for this prom, no. The last thing I want to do is run away. But if you'd rather…"

"No, let's show 'em what real courage is."

Kurt's eyebrows didn't move at the rallying cry. "That's kind of corny."

"Hey, you try being eloquent with fruit punch soaked in your boxers."

"Don't lose that wit, Anderson."

Quinn slammed her fist into the nearest locker. "I lose prom queen. I lose my boyfriend. I lose my promise ring. I lose the respect of my classmates…"

"So, is there a crown for drama queen…?" All that earned Puck was a glare. "Look, Quinn, c'mere." Puck pulled Quinn into a hug. "Sam's a jerk."

She shook her head. "No, he's not. I'm the jerk. I pushed him away and the worst part is I can't find up the energy to get him back."

"His loss. You're awesome, Quinn. Sometimes it takes a little effort to get to the top."

"Then why'd Brittany win?"

"'Cause the boys at this school wanted to watch Tana and Britts get their mack on?" Puck offered.

"Maybe they just wanted to watch us get our mack on?" Brittany suggested, "I don't think they really think you're a boy. Especially in that dress." Her hand grazed Santana's hip.

From atop the piano, Santana growled, "Brittany, any ballot that voted for two prom queens didn't get counted. That means a bunch of people had to _write in_ my name under the prom king category. They were all laughing at me."

"Er, no, they weren't, Santana. And I had a good view, too." Seeing that Santana was not cheered up yet, she asked, "Is it that bad that you're king, though?"

"I think you're aware of my complete lack of a dick."

Brittany thought harder. "You like History; it's your favorite subject, right?"

"I'm not a big fan of classes in general, but, gun to my head, yeah, it's the least sucky."

Brittany cringed at the metaphor, but continued. "Besides Queen Elizabeth, who's been queen for like five hundred years, weren't the kings usually more powerful?"

"Yeah, because of patriarchy. Queens were just for making little princes."

"So, then, don't you _want_ to be king, so you can be the most awesome person at McKinley?"

Santana was pensive for a second. She held out her arms. "Help me down. I think it's time to show McKinley who the King of McKinley is capable of."

: : :

When Santana walked on stage, Figgins ran up to her. "I'm so sorry, Miss Lopez. I can't find Daniel; his date ran off and he went to find her. What do you want me to do?"

Santana plucked the crown out of his hand, causing the attendees to gasp. Santana situated herself in front of the mic. "You're probably expecting me to put this on my head and give some glib saying about how awesome I am, but the truth is, my lovely date—By the way, isn't she so much hotter than whoever you came with?—reminded me how powerful kings are, so I think that my first royal decree will be to choose who I think deserves to be king. If you're a candidate…" Dave and several other males perked up. "…just don't bother unless you want me spreading the nasty details about your junk size or how bad you were in bed." She scanned the room. "Well, looky here. Blim Warbler, why don't you hop up on stage?" When Blaine joined her, she said, "You know, in all those fairy tales, the knight has to prove his worth. I think Blim here has."

"He doesn't even go here!" Rebekah cried out.

"Oh, Jesus, Cole, I don't know why you make a spectacle of yourself. You don't see me mentioning how your eyebrows are just completely out of control or that gap between your teeth is large enough to drive a Volvo through."

Blaine claimed the mic. "Well, thanks, Santana, but I think that this lovely lady has a point. I just returned to a party. The real king of McKinley is the one who had enough courage to walk back into this school after leaving. Kurt Hummel, why don't you take this?"

A red-faced Kurt complied with his boyfriend's request. "This is all very after-school special, you know." Santana had to smile at Kurt wearing the right crown this time.

She stole the mic again. "So, here's the thing: I wasn't expecting to win this thing, so I agreed to sing the King and Queen song with my homegirl Mercedes Jones, but I'm not missing the chance to dance with my smokin' hot main squeeze. So, 'Cedes, you think you can handle the song by yourself?"

Quinn tapped her on the shoulder. "Actually, if Mercedes wouldn't mind the last-minute substitution, I'd be honored to sing to this very deserving couple."

"Would you now?" Santana shot back.

"Yeah, plus given my improbable friendship with one Rachel Berry and her _Rent_-inspired love of ABBA, I think I've got the words to this next song down."

_Friday night and the lights are low  
Looking out for the place to go  
Where they play the right music, getting in the swing  
You come in to look for a king_

Brittany took Santana's hand and danced them down the stage. Kurt, in his crown, dragged Blaine to the floor as well. "We're not being outgayed by a couple of lipstick lesbians."

_You're a teaser, you turn 'em on  
Leave them burning and then you're gone  
Looking out for another, anyone will do  
You're in the mood for a dance  
And when you get the chance..._

Mercedes and Quinn strolled down the steps as the two couples bowed to one another and exchanged partners. Quinn moved to where Santana and Kurt were, and Mercedes to Blaine and Brittany.

_You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen  
Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine  
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life  
See that girl, watch that scene, digging the Dancing Queen_

It wasn't long before the rest of New Directions found their way into the orbit of the dance-off.

Above the music, Brittany screamed to Santana and Kurt, "Are you guys okay? This was kind of the worse night ever."

"It was okay," Blaine and Santana managed to say at the same time; neither looked particularly pleased with this.

Santana traded back Kurt for Brittany. "Best prom ever," she whispered into the blonde's ear when she got her back.

: : :

Santana couldn't help but notice that Puck's uncle's house had a "For Sale" sign tossed carelessly behind a bush. After walking through the interior, perfectly decorated with artificial fruit and a cardboard TV, she looked out back to see a pile of empty boxed win cartons stacked against the back wall.

Tina pulled Mike close. "So, there was some schmuck in the girls' bathroom earlier, so I was forced to hide my panties in my clutch."

"Why are you telling me this?" Mike wondered, his eyes wide.

"Just… FYI."

The next thing she knew, Tina had been scooped up by her boyfriend and was being raced around the house.

For a while, only Puck was in the pool, in his boxers, his tux hanging on a clothesline. Eventually, some others leapt in after him. Genevieve didn't even remove her aquamarine dress, explaining that since it was already water-colored, the pool was safe for it.

Puck shrugged, "Good enough for me. Where's your date, by the way?"

"Neil? Oh, he dropped me off here. He has church in the morning."

Brittany and Santana found their way into the pool, too, in their respective undergarments, which were matched to the colors of their dresses. Almost immediately, Brittany cornered Santana into the corner of the pool, kissing her deeply. Pretty soon, there were a cacophony of hooting and hollering. Santana tried to apologize, but Brittany brushed it off. Before long, making out in the pool ceased to be enough for the couple, so they pulled themselves out of the pool, dried themselves off with a couple of the uglier dresses hanging on the line, and slipped their dresses back on. Santana took Brittany by the hand and dragged her around the house, looking for an appropriate hookup spot.

They passed by Quinn, who had spent much of the night avoiding Sam. It was not an issue as the blond boy was happily chatting with Faith Jennings about Nashville. For a while, Quinn sat with Artie and Sunshine, who were engaged in a discussion about films based on books that Quinn could follow with relative ease. She evenly loosened up enough to drink a wine cooler, though she nursed it with deliberate slowness. But before long, she made her way back out to the pool, trying to track down Puck. They hadn't spoken since the bathroom, and he need to thank him for his advice. She was even practicing the words her head.

"Puck, I just wanted to thank you for being there for me tonight. I know things have been really awkward between us lately—and by _lately_, I mean all year—it's just… after the baby—you know?—I wasn't sure where we stood. And then I found Sam and it was just so much easier than…"

Quinn stopped her internal monologue. Somehow she'd found herself reciting a get-back-together speech instead of a thank-you speech.

"Dammit, Puck, stop playing with my head. We're over," she told an armchair, "You've been a horndog all year. In fact tonight, you managed to steal every girl in the entire room from their dates. Except me, of course. And just what's wrong with me anyway? There was a time when you would have cut off your left foot to…"

Quinn found her thoughts had migrated to traitorous territory once again.

"How could I ever be into him? It's not like he has any redeeming features." Quinn then realized why her mind was even on Puck. "Because every once in a while, you show that you're a decent human being who comforts girls who lose their prom queen races even though they gave away your child and didn't talk to your for three months and start dating another guy right in front of your face."

Quinn decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she got closer to her ex-boyfriend again. "I'm newly single," she told a framed picture of a flower. "And it's not like I'm going to let him seduce me again. I just think maybe now that Sam is out of the picture, we can reestablish our friendship again." She turned down a hallway. "And if we happen to rekindle something, maybe that wouldn't be so bad."

As the turned a corner, wondering briefly which of Puck's uncles was this loaded—Mrs. Puckerman never mentioned any brothers who weren't blue collar in the time she stayed with them—she was just in time to see Puck stagger into a bedroom with Genevieve McLaire in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

Her face blank, Quinn strode back towards the backyard in search of more wine coolers, passing Faith on her way. The other blonde looked as intent in her search. Quinn found Sam alone in the backyard, nursing a beer. She took a seat across from him. "I'm sorry," she opened.

Sam wasn't welcoming yet. "Why was the race so important to you?"

"All I have are my looks and popularity."

"You know that's not true, Quinn," he muttered, "With your GPA, you could get into a lot of schools. I don't have that luxury. You might be able to avoid the trouble my folks are in."

"Jail?"

"Unemployment, but they're still there, by the way."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "How soon do they get out?"

"We don't know. The ADA's been stalling. That was a week ago. Thanks for finally asking."

"I guess I have been preoccupied."

"It's okay. You're giving me and my siblings a home. Your mom's providing free babysitting."

"That's no excuse. Your problems kind of dwarf mine."

"You seen Puckerman?"

Quinn bristled. "Why?"

"He offered to let me stay at his place tonight. Unless he gets lucky."

"Then I think you're in need of a roof."

Sam slouched. "I'll manage."

"Of course you will. You're coming back with me."

"Quinn, I don't want things to be awkward."

"They don't have to be. You've got your own room. Now that this stupid race is over, I promise that, if I can't be a more attentive girlfriend, I'm willing to be a more attentive friend."

Sam pulled out the promise ring from his pocket. "You know I searched the ground for ten minutes looking for this thing? I wasn't willing to risk the chance I might be able to fix us."

Quinn pulled the silver ring out of her clutch. "It's me who needs to be fixed. Let's start over. Hold onto that. Give it back when you feel the way you felt before I went crazy."

: : :

_C'mon! How hard is it to find an empty room in this damn McMansion? _

Santana and Brittany's first stop was the downstairs guest bedroom. It was already occupied. _If I didn't know any better, I'd think that was Finnocence and Nunchel rounding second base. _Brittany noiselessly closed the door before the couple could take notice of them.

They found the laundry room next, but they weren't the first ones. This time, it was Santana who had to close the door, as Brittany was rather enthralled by the going-ons, not that Santana could blame her. _Mike's still limber, I see. Though it's Tina who's more acrobatic than she lets on._

"Upstairs?" Brittany suggested, reading her girlfriend's mind.

However, at the base of the stairs, they were delayed by Faith calling out to them. Santana muttered, "Cockblock" under her breath, but put on a fake smile to greet her friend. "What's up, Jennings? Enjoying the party? We are. Drinks and half-naked people are in the backyard. In case you wanted to avoid all that."

"No, I was looking for you actually." Santana couldn't have looked more impatient if she tried, but Brittany gave a calming squeeze. Faith continued, "So, I just wanted to apologize. That whole thing with you being elected prom king?" Brittany felt Santana squeeze her hand back, but it wasn't for comfort. Faith explained, "That was kind of my fault—"

Her explanation was cut off by Santana slapping her across the face. The brunette didn't give herself the time to enjoy the _déjà vu_. "You bitch!" Santana screamed, "You homophobic whore! I can't fucking believe I ever agreed to be your goddamn friend. You are… you are just like your fucking hateful parents and that little cult you call a church, aren't you? I can't believe I ever thought you understood this." She gestured toward Brittany and herself. "Am I that disgusting to you? Just because I love Brittany? I… I…"

Before Faith could reply or Santana continue her rant, Brittany pulled at her girlfriend's arm. Suddenly, Santana rushed forward up the stairs, forcefully dragging Brittany with her. She kicked open the first door she found at the top of the steps. She was ready to kick out any couple currently occupying the room, but it was thankfully empty. Still huffing and puffing furiously, she all but threw Brittany on the surprisingly small twin bed. Her corsage was yanked from her wrist and tossed aside. She violently struggled with the zipper on her dress for a few seconds before the clasp yielded and the red material pooled at her feet.

With purpose, she climbed onto the bed and onto Brittany, grabbing the girl's wrists and pinning them to the mattress. After a few calming breaths, she explained, "Brittany… I just need to… right now... Can you…?"

Brittany yielded immediately. Softly, she whispered, "Whatever you need, baby."

Needing no other consent, Santana pressed her lips down onto Brittany's forcefully. There were tears in Santana's eyes but she paid them no mind. Wordlessly, the brunette pulled back and busied her hands with discarding Brittany's corsage, which she put on the dresser with slightly less force than she had used with her own. She did away with Brittany's headband as well, quickly but carefully, and then leaned forward to press her face into the hair, inhaling the scent of the girl's shampoo.

As she dissembled Brittany's dress, the blonde was completely compliant, like a ragdoll until Santana finally got her down to her underwear, at which point she responded to all Santana's advances in earnest. When the brunette burrowed into her neck to kiss and suckle the flesh, Brittany's agile fingers undid the clasp of her bra.

Before long, Brittany was naked and writhing on the bed, covered in more small bruises and bite marks than was typical of her normal rendezvous with Santana. The girl's tan arms seemed more strained than usual as they worked the juncture of the blonde's legs. Brittany didn't mean to be squeezing Santana shoulders so hard, hard enough to leave hand-shaped bruises, but she couldn't help it. She also didn't mean to be screaming so loud during her orgasm, loud enough to be heard across the house, but again she couldn't help it.

It seemed like only seconds later, as Brittany was still getting her bearings, when she realized that Santana was sniffling on her shoulder. It was instinct to run her fingers through Santana's hair. In fact, Brittany found herself already doing it. "Babe?"

"I don't deserve you, do I?"

"That's not true. You're the most awesome girlfriend ever. You're sweet, and you're beautiful, and you sing to me all the time. I love every minute that I'm with you."

But Santana only grew more frantic. "You love me, right? Tell me you love me."

"Santana, I love you. I love everything about you." Santana was still trembling, so she continuing whispering. "Everybody in glee loves you too, you know. They think you're funny and saucy and sexy."

"But you love me, right?"

"Of course I love you. I love you so much. I want to be with you forever, okay?" Santana didn't respond, just nodded her head, so Brittany just squeezed her tighter, whispering, "I love you" repeatedly.

* * *

A/N: The visual probably didn't come across, but Finn and Rachel were dressed in costumes inspired by the ball scene from _My Fair Lady_. Those of you who have seen the movie will have a better idea of what they looked like than I, who has not. Google is your friend.

I obviously didn't have Kurt win prom queen again, because I wanted to avoid the meta thing about you guys knowing (doubly) that it was going to happen.

There's been a lot of clamoring for some Santana/Faith development, and I kind of went in the opposite direction. I do plan to address it in the way you guys are hoping. Just not in this volume.

That random Daniel Creek character, whose name I'd be surprised if you remembered, is played by Sam Tsui. So, if this were the show, he'd obviously have a larger role later on. You probably have noticed a lot of randoms. There's a reason for that, but you don't get to know it just yet.


	27. Tethered

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 27  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. Santana feels inspiration as she deals with Jesse St. James preparing New Directions for Nationals, and a sudden death in the community.  
Spoilers: 2x21 "Funeral"

A/N: You know, I'm feeling like most of the chapters from Volume Two have been incoherent. I've been relying too much on the actual plot of the episodes, rewriting instead of being inspired. It's just I'm bouncing around so many ideas about Volume Three and I've kind of been ignoring the plot arcs. I'll see if I can get address them a little better for these final two chapters.

* * *

Chapter 27: Tethered

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. All the kids in New Directions went to prom, and Sue made them sing, too. Blaine didn't want to go at first, but he changed his mind and so Kurt was really happy about that, especially when Blaine got the Warblers to sing at their fancy dinner at the best restaurant in town. "Breadstix!" Santana didn't expect to win prom queen, but she was excited Brittany won. And then Santana won, for Prom __**King**__, which made her really mad: "This isn't funny!" You tell 'em, Brittany! However, Blaine's night took a turn for the worse when he tried to tell off the school, and some bullies poured punch on him: "I smell like a lemon… Why does everyone hate us?" Artie went alone, but the League of Badassery kidnapped Sunshine again so he had a date in the end. Quinn got mad, too, because she __**also **__really wanted to win Prom Queen. Oh, you ladies! Then Sam dumped her, and it all went to hell for her: "I guess this night can't get any worse." In the end, Santana decided to face her bullies, and gave Blaine the crown, who then gave Kurt the crown, which is really what Santana probably wanted all along. Later, at Puck's after-party, Quinn tried to talk to Puck, only to see him making out with Genevieve, Artie' ex-girlfriend. Also, Faith tells Santana she's the one who got her elected prom king. Uh-oh. Luckily, Brittany was there for her: "Tell me you love me." And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

: : :

"_All right, guys, time to get to work. Now, I want two hit songs by the time the wheels touch down at JFK." _

With the dawn rays filtering through an unobscured window, Santana woke up in what appeared to be a child's room, naked, with an equally bare Brittany wrapped in her arms, the last remnants of another prophetic dream bouncing around in her head. Instead of focusing on the details of her premonition, she lovingly examined her girlfriend, frowning when she noticed the blonde's wrists looked red and raw. She lazily allowed her fingers to graze all the bite marks and bruises she found marring her girlfriend's pale skin; it was a lot more than she usually left.

"Tickles," Brittany whispered through her fading slumber.

"I'm sorry, B. I was really rough last night; I just…"

"It's okay." Brittany tangled some of her girlfriend's dark locks into her fingers. "You were in a dark place."

Santana's heart swelled, putting her in a much better mood. "It's not dark anymore," she joked, "Seriously, there's enough sunlight in here to light up the whole frickin' planet. I'm gonna go close the blinds."

"No," she mumbled, "don't like the dark. I never see where I am and I get lost in my own house."

"Well, that's why your room has your sister's old ladybug nightlight. And why you made me add a lava lamp to my room's décor."

"You loved it," Brittany teased, "And it looks great, too."

Santana examined the fake books on the shelf: a collection of thick literary masterpiece titles none too appropriate for the imaginary six-year-old who inhabited the room. "Look, we gotta get out of here. I'm pretty sure Puck's 'uncle' is a real estate agent. Plus, we need to get back to one of our rooms before one of our moms wakes up and realizes we stayed out all night."

Santana finally allowed the details of the dream to pass through her brain again. It looked like Mr. Schue was planning on original songs again. _We're not taking twelfth place again. We need a song that __**rocks**__, and there's only one badass I know who's up to the task. _

: : :

That Monday morning, Brittany figured comforting Becky Jackson was more important than learning about indecisive letters with identity crises who thought they were numbers. "So, why did Coach fire you?" Even though Terri Delmonico replaced Sue Sylvester as cheerleading coach, all the ex-Cheerios still called her "Coach."

"She didn't say! I think it was because I bedazzled her favorite power suit."

"Nah, I decorated her track suits with glitter pens all the time and she never kicked me off the team. She said the booster club would buy her news ones and the hobos in Lima needed better outfits anyway."

Sniffling, Becky asked, "Do you think Mr. Schue will let me join glee?"

Brittany hugged the girl around the shoulders. "I'm sure he will. You can go ask him right now. We're about to go to Nationals and we need a lot of help writing new songs."

Becky jumped up and down. "What do you want to write about?"

"Oh, I don't know. I think maybe Santana and I will write a love song to sing together."

"That sounds nice. It should be about dancing. Dancing is really romantic and you're really good at it."

"That's genius, Becky. This is why I always copy off you in science."

"Okay, I'm going to go talk to Mr. Schue. Bye!"

When Brittany felt a hand on her arm, she assumed it was Santana dragging her aside for something naughty and/or nefarious. But the face that popped into view was instead Faith Jennings. Brittany's face scrunched into her best glower as she hissed menacingly, "I'm _very_ mad at you right now."

"Listen, Brittany, I need your help," Faith pleaded, "I really have to talk to Santana about prom."

"Santana is very angry with you, too."

"Well, if you can get her to talk to me, I can promise she'll be a lot less angry with me."

Brittany's scrunched face went from 'angry' to 'thoughtful'.

: : :

Jesse swooped by Rachel's locker. "So, word on the street is you and Jim are fighting."

Rachel contemptuously cleared her throat. "Finn and I are doing fine, thank you very much. Not that it's any of your business, Jesse."

Jesse quirked his head to the side. "I know that shiver. You had _relations_. And given your off-kilter disposition, I'd have to say things are now awkward between you and your boy toy. Let me guess, the good Mr. Hudson pressured you into something you weren't ready for."

Rachel turned ferociously. "I'll have you know that _I _was the one who decided that we should… Actually, I believe I've already told you that this is none of your business. So, if you'll excuse me, I have homeroom. I never miss an opportunity to hear my name being called."

Jesse nodded regally. "That's fair, Rachel. I'll see you in glee. You'll want to be around to hear what I have to say."

: : :

When Santana got dragged into the astronomy room by her girlfriend, she was expecting a hot and heavy make-out session. _I do deserve a little thank-you for agreeing to let Becky Jackson song-write with me._ However, the classroom wasn't as deserted as it usually was during second period—the school knew it was blocked off that period every day for them—there was a single occupant already there, making Santana frustrated.

And that occupant was Faith Jennings, making Santana angry.

"Let's get out of here, B."

"Santana, wait," Faith begged.

"Santana," Brittany echoed, "I think you should listen to her. She's got something to say and it sounds important."

"Why, is she gonna berate us about our unnatural lifestyle?"

Brittany took Santana's hand and pouted with her best puppy-dog eyes. "For me?"

Santana pivoted to eye Faith with derision. "You've got thirty seconds, Prairie Braid."

"First, I just wanted to say I'm so sorry."

"You're down to twenty-five."

"Santana, please, I thought we were friends."

"I don't know what we are, but we are _not_ friends, Bible Belt."

Faith huffed. "You know what?" she growled, "I know you never listen when I talk about my life, so let me remind you of a few things. That ex-boyfriend I told you about? We got back together. His name's Daniel Creek and he's student body president. Did you know that?"

"Couldn't care less, especially at this moment."

"That's how I got the job as coordinator of the Prom Royalty Race."

"You brought me here to brag about your plan to ruin my junior prom?"

Faith sighed. "I was the one who counted the ballots. Let me tell you what really went down that night. Did a few people write in your name under 'Prom King'? Yes, but there were _dozens_ of votes for you and Brittany, both under prom queen. I think we can safely assume they were actually trying to vote for you as a couple. Karofsky had the most votes for king, but both you and Brittany each had more. So, I went against what Principal Figgins told me to do and declared you two the winners. Since Brittany happened to have six more votes for queen, I put her in the 'Queen' envelope; it was practically an arbitrary decision. Then I put your name in the 'King' envelope, but…" she pulled a card out of her pocket, torn in half, "…even though I marked out 'King' and put 'Queen' on the card, Principal Figgins didn't notice. He mentioned prom king before he even opened the envelope."

Distantly, Santana concluded, "We won?"

"Yes. It was all a big misunderstanding. I'm so sorry you came to the wrong conclusion. Daniel and I were all ready to explain what happened, but then you ran off, and I tried to find you, and everything just blew up and you wouldn't let me explain at the party…"

Faith was cut off when Santana ran to her and wrapped her arms around her. She laid a hard kiss on her cheek, and tearily proclaimed, Faith's face in her hands, "Thank you. You didn't have to stand up for me."

A smile appeared on Faith's face but it disappeared when Santana ran back to Brittany and laid a kiss on her lips. "Did you hear that, Brittany? We won. I think the plebes at this school actually accept us."

Brittany offhandedly noted, "I think it may have been a bunch of guys wanting us to make out on stage."

"I think so," Faith agreed, "There were a few votes that just said, 'The two hot lesbos'. That's actually what put you over the top."

"You do you want to go out to Breadstix?" Santana suddenly asked Faith.

"What?" Faith replied, flummoxed.

"What?" Brittany echoed, heartbroken.

"I was an absolute bitch to you and you were just trying to make my night special. We're going to take you out to eat, to say thank you." Faith's face dropped at the "we". "Most people would consider it an honor to dine with the Queens of the school."

Brittany piped in, "You can bring your boyfriend."

"What?" Faith replied, blindsided.

"What?" Santana echoed, suspicious.

"He let you count those votes, right?" Brittany reasoned, "He should come, too."

Santana eyed her girlfriend. "This is about me giving you lame excuses about why we can't go out on double dates, right?"

"A little," Brittany replied, "the one about the moon was pretty dumb. Mike isn't a werewolf. Unless it's something recent."

"Crafty move you just made, White Queen." Santana took her in her arms with a warm smile. _Get on your game! Your girl just outsmarted me again. _

: : :

Emma warily walked into the principal's office, which she noticed had been repainted black. "Sue, can we talk?"

"I really don't have time for you, Conchita. I'm in mourning. At 11:00, I'm having a priest of the Church of Nyarlathotep perform a paradigm shift to dispel the positive energy in this space."

"I wanted to offer my condolences about your sister."

"Your words mean little to me, Bronze Age." After a pause, she added, "Jean would have liked you. She was convinced gingers were secretly wizards."

"Sue, I know we've not always seen eye-to-eye, but I want you to know that my office is open if you ever need to talk."

"No can do, Plantain. The Purell fumes alone will exasperate my risk of spontaneous combustion."

"I can tell you're hurting, Sue; your nicknames are nonsensical. You can't bottle it all up inside."

Sue violently knocked a lamp off her desk. "Listen, Lucy Ricardo, do you want to know what Jean's biggest regret in life was? That she couldn't adopt all the kittens from the animal shelter because of the nursing home rules. You know what mine would be? That I foolishly spent months cultivating a relationship with hired Estonian assassin _before_ I attempted—and failed—to have the definition of 'justifiable homicide' extended."

"I don't understand what you're getting at, Sue."

"Nature favors me. My immune system is so superhuman that I've beaten herpes. Twice. But my sister needs… needed twenty-four-hour supervision every time she came down with a cold. I don't make the world a better place and she did, but apparently it's me who earned the right to continue my reign of terror."

"I'm sorry, Sue."

"That's just the thing. I'm not. I'm not sorry I'm still here."

: : :

Santana was impatiently pacing back and forth in front of the bulletin board.

"Where is he?" she asked frantically, "he said he'd put up the list at 4:00 and it's already… _4:02_." Brittany was grinning at her, humming the Superman theme which kept devolving into the Indiana Jones theme. "What?"

"We came here fifteen minutes early so that you could sign up for a glee assignment," Brittany remarked.

"What? I don't hate glee. I like to sing, and I'm an amazing singer, and I think everyone should know."

"It's okay; I'm just happy you're not trying to play it too-cool like usual."

Tapping her foot rapidly, Santana asked, "So, are you going to sign up with me? You're a bitchin' hot singer, too."

Brittany explained pointedly, "Santana, my talent is comprised of a combination of pop princess vocals, misdirection based on superb dancing ability, and raw sex appeal hidden below an innocent façade." Santana raised an eyebrow and pulled one of the blonde's arms away from her body, where she found a speech written on the inside of her arm. "They're my thoughts," she muttered sheepishly, "Rachel just helped me with the words. Mr. Schue, Ms. H, and their secret son wanted the best _singer_ and that's you. Your voice is hot and one-of-a-kind and makes people's insides tingly. You hafta win, 'cause that's how we'll win Nationals."

"I still think Jesse is trying to get into Berry's pants."

"My Britty-sense was tingling, so I _know_ he's hiding something," Brittany explained, "Maybe it's that. When he comes on _Fondue for Two_, I'll ambush him with my mega reporting skills that I coveted from my careen on _The Muckraker_."

"Sounds like a plan. I guess that means he's going to tear me apart, no matter how awesome I am. DO you think if I slouched and wore an American Girl doll outfit, he could be thrown into a fit of perverse sexual lust?"

"Uh-uh. No, be yourself. Win him over with your talent. He's just Rachel with boy parts."

"Did _not_ need that image," Santana groaned, cringing. "Hey, I want you to come and watch me. I'm gonna dedicate my song about you."

Brittany waggled her shoulders. "You do that a lot."

"You're worth it."

"You are, too," Brittany replied, the wheels in her head turning.

: : :

"Daniel," Faith called.

Daniel Creek turned and grabbed his girlfriend's hands. "What can I do for you, Pumpkin?"

"First, stop using the same pet names my parents use. Second, I may have accepted an invitation to a double date for us."

Daniel shrugged. "Sounds like fun. Who with?"

"Santana Lopez and her girlfriend Brittany."

Daniel gave her a lopsided grin. "Eh, why the heck not? Y'know, you and Santana has got to be the strangest pairing ever."

Faith stumbled over her words. "It's a thank-you for what we did for them at prom."

"You mean what _you_ did when I wasn't looking."

"You didn't seem mad at me."

"I wouldn't have cared except for the expressed forbiddance from Principal Figgins. Granted, since he wasn't mad, there was no need to protect you. I don't know why you're so obsessed with that girl."

"I'm _not_. She's just a friend from Celibacy Club." She accused, "When you petitioned to have that cute freshman Tess Whatsherface allowed on student council, I didn't accuse _you_ of having a crush."

"Yeah, well, that was the best decision I ever made. Girl does half my work and is probably planning to usurp me next year. Which means that I'll have time on Friday for this double date with your lesbian friends," he offered.

"Love you," Faith sing-songed.

: : :

Finn and Rachel were standing in the choir room, and she was arguing, "Finn, you really ought be auditioning. You are the male lead of the club and it reflects badly on you, on the club, and on _me_, if you're not even trying out."

Finn shot back, "The whole audition thing is just a charade by Jesse to steal you from me. Even if I did try out, he'd just shoot me down."

"It's true," Jesse remarked, standing in the doorway after one of his infamous silent but showy entrances, "but it wouldn't have anything to do with Rachel. You're a mediocre singer, Finn, with limited range and power. In addition, you lack any sort of classical training, unless you call singing to the grainy FM in your truck classical training. If you did, you'd be wrong. Furthermore, your dancing leaves much to be desired. It's much like observing a bonobo with no previous exposure to water attempting to swim."

"Jesse, shut up," Rachel cried. "Finn, don't listen to him. You're a wonderful singer. C'mon; I'll help you pick out a song."

"Of course she will," Jesse purred, "It's not like she's in the competition, too. Or that she's the obvious frontrunner. Or that the fact that you know singing lead on stage at Nationals would be her ultimate dream. For this year. You would know Rachel has a great many dreams… unless you're the kind of guy who tunes her out when she talks, like I have suspicions that you do. If you really cared for her, I figure you'd simply dismiss the idea of even signing up, on the off chance, nay, _inconceivable possibility_, of earning that spot, therefore depriving one Miss Rachel Berry of the opportunity to sing front-and-center at a vocal competition that is taking place in New York City."

"Jesse," Rachel hissed, "_leave_. _Now._"

"As you wish, m'dear," Jesse replied, executing a perfect pivot on the balls of his feet, and walking away with measured grace.

"Finn, he's just trying to psyche you out."

Finn shook his head. "No, he wasn't. He was right, Rach. _You_ deserve to win this, and I know that in your heart you'd be crushed if you don't. How 'bout this: I'll help you pick out the perfect song. You're a shoe-in, but I know you don't do anything halfway."

Rachel curled into Finn's arms. "You know me a lot better than Jesse thinks you do. And better than he thinks _he_ does, too."

: : :

_Fondue for Two!  
Fondue for Two!  
Some hot dish!  
Fondue for Two!_

"Hello, and welcome to _Fondue for Two_. I'm Brittany S. Pierce and today's guest is four-time Nationals-winning singing person, Jesse St. James."

"Hello, Brittany, I must say you're looking _ravishing_ today."

"That's mean," Brittany noted offhandedly with a slight frown.

"Hit on my girl again and I'll add a couple more dents to that pretty jaw of yours."

"It is a quite attractive chin, isn't it?" Jesse posed for the camera.

Brittany just nodded. "So, today, in honor of today's guest, we'll be dipping hard-boiled eggs into very-berry jam."

Santana zoomed in on Jesse's face. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows raised, and his mouth straight, completely motionless for several seconds, until his jaw dropped open and he finally blinked. His eyes rolled toward the camera, but he said nothing.

"So, the first rumor I'd like to address is that you're a robot from the future."

"False," Jesse remarked without a hint of sarcasm.

"Hmmm, that's what an android _would_ say." She dutifully flipped to the next card. "Next up, are you, or aren't you, a test tube baby designed by scientists to be the perfect glee singer?"

Jesse girnned. "It's a suspicion I've long considered myself. Let's leave that theory in the 'Not Yet Discounted' column."

"Rumor three: 'You are so flamin', you set off smoke detectors in Oregon.' Santana, this is your handwriting."

Jesse adjusted his scarf. "Well, I do have to say college was an eye-opening experience, but if you're looking for a rundown of my sexual exploits, it might take a while."

"I can relate," Brittany replied. There was a meow and Lord Tubbington waddled into the room. "Oh, look, if it isn't today's featured guest of honor."

Jesse seemed quite miffed at this development.

"So, Mr. Saint, are you ready to critique LT?"

"Let's roast 'im," Jesse replied.

"I'll kill you!" Brittany suddenly screamed, leaping out of her chair and throwing her body onto Jesse, her hands around his neck.

The pair fell off screen, so Santana came out from behind the camera and told the viewing audience, "So, obviously, I know what he meant, but I'm not missing this opportunity to lay Priscilla down. Join us next week on _Fondue for Two_ where we'll be soaking bacon strips in vodka to see if we can get Quinn Fabray to say gynecological terms without blushing."

: : :

Backstage in the McKinley Auditorium, Santana cursed her eagerness. She signed up first, so now she was performing first.

"Okay, hot stuff, do or die," she whispered. She strutted on stage, eyeing the three judges awaiting her. "Hit it, Brad," she told the pianist.

_L.O. L.O. L.O. L.O.V.E. Love_

_I said I'd never write a song about love  
but when it feels this good  
a song fits like a glove  
when you hold me, and you tell me  
that you missed me, and call me milky  
fuck it, Imma write a song about love, yeea_

_your my key, you unlock me  
keep me close, keep me safe, keep me happy  
so sweet, ooooooh looooove_

Santana dared to look out into the audience. Jesse was scribbling on his notepad, and her teachers beaming at her. However, due to the bright stage lights, she couldn't locate Brittany, but she had faith she was there.

_My best friend, that makes me laugh,  
the puzzle piece that fits exact to my half  
I've never felt this way  
sometimes I'm stuck with what to say  
you hold my hands when I'm driving  
you dry my tears if I'm crying  
and we just laugh if were fighting_

_I'm in love  
I'm in love  
I'm in love  
it's about time  
L.O.V.E. love  
I'm in love  
L.O.V.E. love  
L.O. L.O.V.E. love  
L.O. L.O.V.E. love  
I'm in love_

After her performance, she expected a picture of a cat. Instead, Jesse had plenty of advice for her. "Your voice would be much well suited to some angstier songs. Love doesn't suit you well. Where's the Alanis Morissette, the Fiona Apple, the Amy Winehouse?"

"I've already rocked my girl Amy's songs and I'll do it again."

"Call me again when your girlfriend breaks up with you. I might be able to work with that. Would you consider Bruno Mars' 'Grenade'?"

"Don't even tempt me, Perm Cut."

"Well, go back to your Selena Gomez mix."

Santana was swearing at him in Spanish now. "_¡…junto de Lima Heights! …con mi tacón… ¡A través de la puerta! Tú y su bufando lavanda. Ahora eso es lo que voy a hacer…_"

"Thank you, Santana," Mr. Schue excused her.

Santana didn't stay angry long, since she found Brittany seated in the back row, meaning they had a chance to defile both Kurt's and Mercedes' performances.

Brittany wondered aloud, "I can't believe he didn't like your song. I thought he wrote it."

: : :

It was strange seeing Coach in a dark pant suit. Santana half-expected to see the signature Adidas triple-bar running down the sleeves and legs. But here she was, in a church, in front of a coffin decorated with mushrooms and chocolate fountains, _crying_.

"I miss my sister," she read. In her seat beside Brittany, Santana interlaced their fingers.

"Every night, at 10:00 PM or so, she used to call me on the phone, and when I asked why… she'd tell me that her body told her… she wanted to hear my voice." A smile spread across Santana's face. It gave her a sort of weird insight into Coach's life to know every night when she was usually talking on the phone with Brittany, Coach was doing the same with her sister.

Sue nearly broke down, but when Will got up to help her, she held a hand up, directing him back into his seat beside his girlfriend. "I miss my sister," she repeated, her voice still cracking, "The smell of her shampoo… the way she could always convince me to read her another book…" Brittany held tilted over, onto Santana's shoulder, who in turn laid her head against the blonde's. They both grinned with remembrance.

"When you love someone like I loved her, they're a part of you." With this, Santana found herself squeezing Brittany's hand by instinct. "It's like you're attached by this invisible tether. And no matter how far away you are, you can always feel them." The brunette couldn't stop her chest from constricting as she listened. Sue was always the strongest woman she knew. Invincible, it seemed, stony, and beyond susceptibility.

"And now, every time I reach for that tether, I know there's no one on the other end, and I feel like I'm falling into nothingness." Santana witnessed her former cheerleading coach overcoming her emotions, powering through her speech with what Santana could only recognize as peace. There was still pain in her voice, but not enough to break her. And all at once, Santana felt her tears dry up as a similar strength filled her chest. And just in time, too, because just as suddenly, Brittany was bawling into her shoulder. Santana wrapped her arms around the girl, stroking her hair, and whispering soft comforts into her ear. When she looked up again, Sue was watching them, her speech on hold due to the interruption, but as she had gotten Brittany's sobs down to a heavy sniffling, the principal nodded with patience; she even cracked a smile.

Without commenting, Sue turned back to the eulogy. "Then I remember Jean. I remember a life led with no enemies, no resentments, no regrets—and I'm inspired… to get up out of bed and go on. I miss my sister so much, it feels like a piece of me has been ripped off. Just one more time I want to hold her. Ten more seconds—is that too much to ask?" Brittany was shivering in the brunette's arms now, so violently that Santana had to squeeze her in a crushing embrace.

"For ten more seconds to hold her? But I can't, and I won't, and the only thing keeping me from being swallowed whole by sadness is that Jean would kill me if I did." There were brief, polite chuckles through the house. "So, for now, I'm just going to miss her. I love you, Jeanie. Rest in peace."

Kurt and Finn got up, nodding to Sue, and introducing their song. Santana asked Brittany if she was willing to sing, and Brittany just nodded, following the rest of the club up to the front, in front of the whimsically-decorated casket.

_If you wanna view paradise  
Simply look around and view it  
Anything you want to, do it  
Want to change the world?  
There's nothing to it_

: : :

Even after the funeral, as they walked into the parking lot, Brittany remained clutched to Santana, earning them an overwhelming number of sympathetic looks. "You okay, baby? I know you don't like funerals."

"It's not that. I mean, I am super sad about Coach's sister, but… I was thinking about us."

"Us?"

"We're kind of like the two of them, aren't we?"

Santana considered the comparison and had to agree. "Yeah, I guess."

"I mean, I'm like Coach and you're like Jeanie. Coach said her sister wanted to be everybody's friend and didn't want to regret anything, just like you now. And all that stuff about loving each other and tetherball strings tying them together, it feels like us. Sister-love can be like lover-love, right?"

Santana knew she couldn't produce words at the moment, so she simply nodded and vocalized an affirmative "Mm-hmm."

"Mike told me this story that his mom believes about this red string thing you can't see. He thinks he and Tina are tied together by one, meaning they're meant for each other." Santana looked up, seeing Mike with Tina swaddled in his arms. The Asian girl was wearing a white dress; it made sense since she wore black every other day. She even remembered the earlier conversation where Rachel had challenged her on it and Mike had been quick to defend his girlfriend, explaining how in Korean culture, white is the color of mourning. Rachel turned beet red, briefly explaining how the fact seemed familiar.

"I thought it was dumb, though," Brittany remarked, taking Santana by surprise. "I mean, I totally believe in soul mates, and if we were Asian, I think we'd have a string tying us up, too."

"Absolutely," Santana chimed in.

"But I thought was dumb was that if the string were red, it's the color of love, and that it shouldn't be invisible, because then it'd be like it was hiding, and you shouldn't hide love." Santana pressed her forehead into Brittany shoulder to hide her tears of mirth. Brittany didn't make anything of it, and kept talking, "When Coach said that she felt like her sister was a part of her, I thought… I feel like you're part of me, too. And then I thought that my mom and dad were a part of me, too, and Joanna, too, and Lydia, and of course Mr. Schue and Ms. H, and everybody in glee…" She got ahead of herself, taking in a few labored breaths to catch up. "I've got so many people that are a part of me, and I think if I lose even just one of them, it's gonna hurt so bad. Worse than anything, even that time I fell off my bike into that empty swimming pool. I don't want to lose you."

"Hey, hey, shhh," Santana whispered, only holding herself together marginally better than Brittany, "I promise I'm not going anywhere. My dad's a doctor, remember? He won't let anything happen to me, okay?"

"I know, it's just… it's stupid." Santana didn't bother to correct her use of their forbidden term; she recognized the introduction immediately. "I've been having dreams lately. Something happens and you get yanked away from me, forever. It's like the universe takes you back because you don't belong. I really hope I'm _not_ psychic like you, because I don't want that to happen."

There was something alarming about Brittany's words, but Santana pushed it all aside. "Sweetie, you think the universe can just do whatever it wants with Santana Maria Catalina López de Rivera? Get rid of any doubts that I'd let the universe suck me away from you. Plus, if that ever happens, you've got that red string to pull me back, right?"

"I guess, I'll have to find it, though. Charity can turn invisible, too, and it's really hard to find her when she is."

Santana looped her pinky through Brittany. "Where else do you think it would be?"

"I'm sorry I'm so scared of dumb stuff," Brittany said.

"It's not dumb, Brittany, not even a little bit. _Everybody_ feels this way at funerals. And, plus, you helped me through all my shit, which really was a load of dumb crap. You were so strong, and I think it's about time you let me be the strong one for a little while."

"Okay," Brittany replied, but Santana could tell there was still something on her mind. "Becky Jackson, she's like Coach's sister, right? Is she going to die, too?"

_God help me_, Santana prayed, _It's going to be a long night._

: : :

Sam opened the driver's side car door for Quinn and hopped in the other side himself.

"Quinn, are you okay? You've been quiet for a while. I guess you're sad about your old coach's sister?"

"No. I mean, it is sad. As heartless as Sue is most of the time, I've got an older sister, too, and I can sympathize with her—never thought I'd ever say that. Sam, it's about us. I don't think we should get back together after all."

Sam stuttered out a "Why?"

Avoid his eyes, she explained tensely, "Because you're a really nice guy, Sam, and you don't deserve to suffer having to date me."

"You're not a bad person, Quinn. I love you."

"You tolerate me because I'm pretty. Trust me; the kind of crazy I am tears people like you to pieces."

Sam struggled to a place of resignation. "So, now what?"

"I'm not sure. This is probably the least torrential breakup I've ever gone through."

"This is my first breakup _ever_. I feel like I should be asking whether it was me or whether they're someone else or…"

"_No_ to the first," Quinn answered, followed by, "_Yes_ to the second."

"What? You—?"

"I didn't cheat on you, if that's what you're asking. Don't feel bad; I'd ask me, too. I just… I'm feeling things for someone else. Things I thought I was over."

"I see."

"It doesn't have anything to do with us. Honestly, I really am just letting you go so that you can see that dating someone isn't always a struggle. Sometimes you actually enjoy being with someone."

Sam kissed her on the cheek. "You already showed me that."

"Look, I need to go talk to someone. Could you drive my car home?"

"Speaking of 'home'…"

"I'm not kicking you out. I'm not that evil."

"Actually, I'm just going to stay at Finn and Kurt's for the next couple of days. My folks are being released on Saturday. All charges dropped."

Quinn artificially perked up her voice. "I'm happy for them. For you."

"Can Stevie and Stacey stay with you and your mom, though? Kurt going to Dalton kind of ate into the Hummels' savings and I don't want to stretch their hospitality. I'll take them off your mom's hand in the afternoons."

"They're always welcome," Quinn insisted, "My mom adores them." With a long exhale, she handed Sam her keys and got out of the car. "This doesn't mean we're not still friends. We should have been from the start."

Moments later, she was sitting inside of a pickup truck. "I think that we should give it a second shot. We didn't really see if the two of us were right for each other."

"Yeah, you're right," Finn replied.

: : :

That night, as Will and Holly lay in his bed, he turned to her, whispered into her ear, "I love you."

Holly sat up straight, pulling the sheet around her. "Dammit, Will, you can't do something like without warming." When Will huffed and turned to the side, she softened her voice, "You had to have realized this was gonna freak me out." He looked over his shoulder, as she snaked her body around him again. "You want me to be honest? I probably love you, too, but it's gonna take me more than a minute for me to admit it myself, much less be comfortable saying the words back."

Will sighed. "I'm sorry, Holly, you're right. I'm pushing this on you."

Holly shoved him flat onto his back, crawling onto his chest. "Nuh-uh. I _asked_ you to push this on me." With that, she laid a kiss on his lips.

: : :

The next day at McKinley, Will and Holly were none too pleased to be called to the principal's office, especially since Sue had had Becky beckon them there using the same tone and terminology reserved for troublesome students.

"Sue, what can we do for you?" Will spoke once they arrived. The office hadn't been repainted and was still black. The fumes were almost unbearable.

"Have a seat, William, Dolly. We need to discuss the glee club."

Will immediately jumped to the obvious conclusion. "Sue, you are _not_ doing this! You've just been waiting until the week before Nationals to use your power to shut us down, haven't you?"

"Have a seat, William. I'm your boss."

Will sat down, glaring. Holly laid a calming hand on his arm, looking to Sue with measured interest.

"It has come to my attention that your club was underpaid for their performing at the junior prom. I think this will make up the difference." She handed the pair a check.

Holly was the one to scan it. "This is… the exact amount, to the _cent_, that we needed to cover our trip to Nationals."

"Well, Lovebirds, as you know according to our Network and Computer Usage Policy, you should have no expectation of privacy with your e-mail. That being said, I would suggest you restrict your personal exchanges to your own personal e-mail accounts. At least _that_ gives me the delight of guessing your password so easily every three months."

Will asked, "Sue, I don't understand. I thought you _hated_ glee club."

"Oh, I do. I still find it to be a disturbing combination of genetic mistakes and flowery delusions. But that was before I represented William McKinley High School, and _all_ its programs. I could have disbanded your club at any time, but instead your ex-wife and I just made your life a living hell. For my own amusement? Yes. But I was also testing your mettle. Just like I routinely challenged my Cheerios to break several established laws of physics, biology, and… laws, I've been seeing whether your New Directions thrived or perished under survival of the fittest. And here you are. People are bound to impress you when the bar's set too high."

Will nodded. "You know, Sue, you're right. I have the same philosophy with my kids. Not to mention, I've spent two years foolishly expecting you to do the right thing. I guess we were both right."

"Please, William, I just can't tolerate losers. Which is why I'm stepping down as principal. I can't stand being this close to all these greasy, unmotivated, underdressed teenagers. So, effective immediately, I will be running for the vacant seat on the school board. I force myself to rise to the top."

Holly wondered aloud, "Sue, I didn't hear about any vacant seat on the school board."

"There's about to be eight of them. Once I release my proof that all those sweatbags took bribes from a very well-known regional soft drink distributor, I plan to take all their spots."

"You want to _be_ the school board?" Holly realized.

"Enjoy New York, you guys. Five hours in coach departing at 6:00 AM should be just _swell_."

: : :

Quinn was standing at Finn's locker. "About what I said in the truck? I think it's time."

Finn just nodded, grinning.

"I agree," Rachel piped in, standing beside her boyfriend. "One should always follow their heart."

Quinn folded her hands in front of her. "I wanted to thank you guys for letting me use you guys at as a sounding board yesterday. Trying to get back with Puck, it's not exactly an easy decision to make."

"We're here for you, Quinn. We're your friends." Quinn could tell Rachel was itching for a hug, so she relented and open her arms so that Rachel could leap into her arms. Her eyes met Finn's who just mouthed, "Thank you." Quinn nodded.

"So, I don't mean to monopolize the conversation. I know you guys are going through something, too. My ears are open. It's not like I haven't gone through similar issues."

Finn and Rachel looked at each other, uncomfortable. "Not here," Rachel explained.

: : :

"So, everyone," Jesse greeted, as if he were the director of glee and not the two glaring adults behind him, "I think it's time to announce the winner of the New Directions Lead Singer Audition. Granted, it's simply a formality at this point."

Santana spoke up, and her teachers seemed almost thankful once they realized she wasn't prepping for an attack. "Okay, listen up, Bowie, I know what this is about: your ginormous ego. You're just trying to relive your glory days through your ex-squeeze. You want an ego boost? How about showing a four-time National Champion team that you can turn their third place competition into the stronger choir in two weeks? We identified the four strongest singers. That's three more than Vocal Adrenaline has. Plus: two songs, two leads each."

"How selfless," Finn noted, "You're including yourself in that group."

"And excluding you," Santana spat back, "Finnpotent, since you didn't have the _cojones_ to step up to the plate, you get to miss out on your annual duet with Berry. Kurt, you're in. It's about time you two exhibit your duet prowess again."

Kurt brow furrowed, "Again? Rachel and I have never performed a duet together."

And suddenly, a thousand revelations came crashing down on Santana: the duets assignment; it was the moment she'd come back and completely messed around with history. Since she did so much time-jumping at first, she couldn't be sure but… _I bet they never did their happy song. _

Santana further realized _she_'d become friends with Kurt first, and that she couldn't recall him ever talking about Rachel at length, and certainly not about them being friends. And then _Quinn_ became Rachel's best friend. _Still weird._

Rachel and Mercedes didn't sing "_Take Me or Leave Me_" either, Santana recalled. _I was thankful for that, because… just ew. But I guess that means I stole her girls' night out. _

In essence, Santana realized she'd destroyed, or rather erased, the second-strongest friendship in the club.

She didn't miss more than a beat, quickly covering, "Well, guess what? You're now best friends. You might as well get used to it, since Rachel has dug her claws so deeply into your stepbrother, she'll be your sister-in-law whether he likes it or not," she told Kurt.

Rachel resisted, "Finn and I always do duets."

"Again, Finn didn't even try out."

Finn objected, "Jesse would have cut me down because he's in love with Rachel."

"Jesse did cut me down, and for the same reason: his sexually ambiguous woody for Rachel, and I still got on that stage and made my girl proud." She blindly held up her hand, which Brittany high-fived before grabbing the hand and holding it to her chest. "This is the big leagues, Hudson."

"Uh, can she just take over the club like that?" Tina asked.

Before either of the directors could reply, Brittany spoke up, "We won both Sectionals and Regionals because of her."

Immediately, there was chorus of support from the other members.

"She's earned the right to share her thoughts," Will offered diplomatically.

Santana took that as an admission of power. "Anyway, Mercedes and I are long overdue for a duet ourselves. I've got half of an original song written, and if 'Hell to the No' is any indication, you'll be more than adequate for helping me finish it. You in, 'Cedes?"

"Girl, I know we haven't always seen eye-to-eye, but all I got to say is 'Hell to the Yeah'."

Jesse frowns. "Fine, we'll do it your way," he said, all but confirming Santana's authority. "But Vocal Adrenaline still has one leg up: their actual legs. Our choreography is professional assembled by Dakota Stanley."

Tina suggested, "Mike, Brittany, your number outdid anything I bet Dakota Stanley ever came up with. You guys should do our choreography."

"Tip: put yourselves in front," Santana added, "Maybe Artie in back?" When the boy glared at her. "Roll him out during the rap portions, obviously."

Holly beamed. "So, Santana, what inspired you to write a song?"

In place of an answer, she just eyed her girlfriend. "I knew what I wanted to say, but at first I couldn't get the words, but then the lyrics just came to me."

"Santana, what's your song called?" Will wondered.

"'Light Up the World'."

: : :

A series of tones on the xylophone came over the intercom, alerting the teachers that Principal Sylvester was going to make one of her frequent announcements.

It wasn't Sue's voice that came over the intercom, though. "So, hi, I'm Brittany S. Pierce, and Coach Sylvester let me do the announcements today. Tomorrow, you'll get Becky Jackson back. Before I do that, though, I want to remind everyone to root for New Directions as we compete at Nationals in New York City—or maybe it's just New York—it's at the end of the month. Because if you don't think glee is awesome, well, you're wrong. And in that spirit, I'd like to sing a song. This song is decimated to my girlfriend, Santana Lopez. I'm singing to her because she sings to me a lot and I figured out that she is the _only_ person in the club that no one has ever sung a song to, and I think that's awful, because she's the coolest person I know, and people should sing to her every day. So, here it goes…"

_Absolutely no one who knows me better  
No one that can make me feel so good  
How did we stay so long together  
When everybody  
Everybody said we never would  
And just when I  
I start to think they're right  
That love has died_

_There you go making my heart beat again  
Heart beat again, heart beat again  
There you go making me feel like a kid  
Won't you do it and do it one time_

_There you go pulling me right back in  
Right back in, right back in  
And I know I'm never letting this go  
I'm stuck on you  
_

_Whoa-oh, whoa-oh  
Stuck like glue  
You and me baby  
We're stuck like glue  
Whoa-oh, whoa-oh  
Stuck like glue  
You and me baby  
We're stuck like glue_

* * *

A/N: Huge points for whoever caught the secret message hidden in the text. Santana found it. Can you?

Oh, wow, inspiration strikes again. Damn, that eulogy scene did not develop like I thought it was going to. But I'm fantastically happy with it.

I actually planned to give all four contestants new songs, but it got too hard. I didn't feel like Santana would be singing such an angsty song since she had Brittany. I wanted to give her a happy Amy Winehouse song, because, not being an Amy enthusiast, I thought such a thing existed. Anyway, Jessie J's "L.O.V.E." had an appropriate message. Also, I'd like to thank **EmmaSchue**/**twistandturnaway** for compiling a list of song suggestions. Most of my song picks for this half of the series have probably come from her. "Stuck Like Glue" by Sugarland was suggested by **May1003**.

This is a day late. My goal is to publish the last chapter on Monday.


	28. A Night at Breadstix

Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 28  
by Creedog VanDrey

Category: _Glee  
_Genre: Romance/Drama  
Rating: T  
Language: English  
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. New York! It's Santana's final showdown with destiny. Can she earn New Directions the coveted title of "Best Show Choir in the Nation"? And (more importantly) can she keep her girl?  
Spoilers: 2x22 "New York"

A/N: Ugh, I am _not_ ready have this finished. Granted, at the same time, I'm _so_ ready to put this aside until my next wave of inspiration.

* * *

Chapter 28: A Night At Breadstix

_So here's what you missed on _Glee_. New Directions is all geared up to head to New York. Jesse St. James has been consulting for them and he had the best singers try out. Rachel: "Oh my man, I love him so…", Kurt: "But some people ain't me!", Mercedes: "Try a little tenderness…", and of course, Santana: "I'm in love, L.O.V.E. love…" But first they had to deal with some personal issues. Faith explained that she was trying __**help**__ Santana by making her prom king: "I was the one who counted the ballots… I declared you two the winners." And she got a kiss for her trouble, on the cheek. Uh-oh. Becky got dismissed by Sue because her big sister died, but New Directions sang at the funeral. In thanks, Sue paid for New Directions to go to New York. I guess she's not all bad. "I will be running for the vacant seat on the school board… I plan to take all their spots." Well, I guess that remains to be seen. Inspiration strikes Santana and she writes a song called, "Light Up the World." And that's what you missed on… _Glee_!_

: : :

Arm-in-arm, Santana escorted Brittany into Breadstix, walking straight up to the hostess, whose nametag read "Courtney". Brittany waved at her like they were old friends, which by the way Courtney waved back, appeared to be true. Santana recognized her only as a former JV Cheerio.

Santana stated, "So, party of four, under the name of 'Faith' or 'Jennings' or…" When the hostess didn't recognize anything, she turned to Brittany. "What's the name of Salt Lake's boy toy?"

Brittany was confused by question. She turned to the Courtney. "Faith's boyfriend's name is Daniel Creek."

"Santana!" someone called from the other end of the restaurant.

"That'd be us," Santana remarked, wandering past the hostess booth and grabbing two menus, a wine list, a children's paper placemat, and a set of crayons.

Faith shyly got out of the booth to greet Santana, who grabbed her in a hug that caught both the blondes off-guard. "Looking like a sexy mama, I see," she complimented Faith's white cocktail dress. Faith turned redder than pomodoro sauce. Santana winked at Daniel. Brittany took in this exchange with discomfort, but she too hugged Faith.

"Ow," Faith yelped.

"Sorry," Brittany replied sheepishly, "I take my hugs seriously."

"That's true," Santana chortled, grabbing Brittany's arm and yanking her into the booth with her.

The moment everyone was situated, Faith leaned forward across the table toward Santana and enthusiastically requested, "So, you gotta tell me all about Nationals!"

"You missed out on quite an adventure," Santana hinted, "Shoulda joined."

"I've been working my mom. I bet she's gonna let me join next year."

Santana smiled sincerely. "Hey, awesome."

Brittany forced out a closed-lipped _mm-hmm_ in agreement. Eager to shift the conversation, her eyes wandered around the restaurant. "I think that boy wants you to call him," she told Daniel.

Daniel looked over his shoulder, where he noticed an athletic boy with curly black hair waving his thumbs and pinky fingers, surfer-style, with his tongue hanging out jovially. His date, a petite redhead, was trying to push down his arms.

"That's Gino Clarke from the football team," Daniel explained suavely, "I think he's congratulating me on being out with three beautiful ladies."

Santana grabbed Brittany's face and kissed her passionately. "That clear things up?" she asked after the embrace.

"He seems more excited now," Brittany remarked, looking as if she felt the same.

Faith put her hand on Santana's. "You were telling me about Nationals."

Brittany laid a sharp slap on Faith's hand.

"Ow," Faith yelped again.

"Brittany!" Santana chastised. "Sorry about her. She's very protective of her property," she joked. All the same, she put the offended hand into Brittany's lap, who grinned with pride and laid her head onto Santana's shoulder.

"Well, let's start from the beginning…" Santana proceeded to narrate.

Before she could get too far, the waitress Sandy walked up and asked, "What can I get you folks?"

: : :

"Can I get anything for you ladies?" the flight attendant asked.

Near the back of the plane, Santana and Brittany had three seats to themselves. At the moment, Brittany was leaning her head on Santana's shoulder, reading the fashion magazine that was in the other girl's hands. "A blanket, please," Santana requested.

Originally, Holly had placed Quinn in between the couple, but it became obvious to Quinn that the two lovebirds would make out regardless of her presence, likely on top of her if she didn't move, so she wisely chose to jump across the aisle where Kurt and Mercedes had a free seat, which they were using as a planning board for their Madison Avenue shopping spree. A mention of the size of the wad of spending money her mom had given her for the trip was more than enough to get the pair to squeeze her in.

Unfortunately for her, this put her behind Puck and Sam's seats, so she spent the rest of the flight with her eyes tilted downward.

Santana had laid the requested blanket across her and Brittany. Though the blonde's eyes were closed, she immediately began to squirm in her seat and breathe heavily. Santana continued to watch the flight attendant as the woman helped some travelers a few rows up. Suddenly, she turned her head and locked eyes with Santana. The brunette froze, engaging in a staring match. Brittany then whined with frustration, burrowing closer into Santana's side.

"Is she alright?" the attendant whispered after nearing the girls despite Santana's scowl.

"Yeah, probably just having a bad dream."

"Good dream," Brittany mumbled sleepily.

Santana smirked. "So, if it's not too much trouble, could you do your job and get her another apple juice? It will really make her feel better when she wakes up." Santana used her free arm to cradle Brittany's head against her shoulder: the very image of innocence.

The flight attendant's fake smile was even more transparent than Santana's. "It would be my pleasure, Miss."

As soon as they were alone again, Brittany began squirming again under the blanket, biting the insides of her lips to keep quiet.

Across the row, Quinn's hand stopped blocking the view in front of her and instead blocked the view to her left.

Two rows up, Will hissed to his girlfriend, "Holly, it's illegal. And we're the chaperones for this trip. We're supposed to be acting as good role models. So, no, I do not want to join 'The Club' with you."

"Oh, I'm not _joining_, Ricosuave. I'm trying to induct you."

: : :

"I don't think we needed the details of the plane ride," Daniel grumbled. He leaned in and added, with emphasis, "Also, I don't think we needed the _details_ of the plane ride." Beside him, Faith was listening with morbid curiosity.

"Whatevs," Santana remarked, "I think we can jump ahead to the hotel…"

: : :

Will forgot how Holly talked in him into agreeing to Puck's suggestion of a single, deluxe suite for the entire choir. It saved them a grand total of fifty dollars for the entire stay. Technically, it did separate the boys from the girls, and it had two bathrooms, which was apparently a necessity since they'd brought seven women.

After Holly had half-heartedly read through the rules to the female members (and Kurt), scoffing at a few of them, Kurt conspicuously dragged her out of the girls' room with a "luggage emergency".

All at once, Quinn, Rachel, Mercedes, and Tina turned to Brittany and Santana. "Here's the deal," Quinn explained, "Us ladies have agreed to make ourselves scarce between the hours of eight and ten PM tonight and tomorrow night. We'll also keep Ms. Holliday occupied."

Santana immediately read between the lines. "You're doing us a favor?"

"You don't have to do that," Brittany remarked after Santana whispered an explanation in her ear.

"Oh, we're not doing it _for_ you," Mercedes explained.

"It's actually a very selfish decision on our part," Tina added.

"We understand that a young couple in love sometimes needs their alone time," Rachel noted, "_alone_."

"Remember, this is only for two hours," Quinn pointed out, "That should be plenty of time to get your Brittana on."

Santana and Brittany looked at each other. "Straight people," the brunette remarked dismissively.

: : :

"What part of this story doesn't involve 'getting your Brittana on'?" Daniel wondered, adjusting his jeans.

"Brittana was _always_ on," Santana explained, "the whole damn trip."

Even Faith cracked up at that.

: : :

Will didn't like the conspiratory huddle the boys formed the second he turned to leave the room to meet up with April Rhodes.

"So, Artie and I have devised an evil plan," Puck explained.

"We set up a romantic night for Santana and Brittany," Artie explained.

"Wow, sounds real devious," Sam remarked flippantly, eating a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

"Quinn gave me the idea," Puck added, "Apparently, she's planning your dates with Rachel now, Finn?"

"She… it's only for one night! And it was my idea… she just helped out with the details," Finn defended, "Most of them, but… I helped a lot, too!"

"Anyway," Puck remarked, "the ladies are giving Sugar and Spice some 'alone time' in the evening, and we figured it would be a killer idea to make sure they're feelings particularly amorous. Because from eight to ten, I plan on chilling in the common area. Finn, you'll get to find out what it sounds like when Santana's not faking it."

"I'll probably still be out with Rachel…"

"Your loss. Artie here is gonna learn the same thing about Brittany."

Artie sneered at him. "Hey, don't insult the brains of this operation! I doubt you could have found an antique music store on your own."

"This sounds like it's going to be a weird plan," Mike commented.

: : :

Brittany was building a tower out of the breadsticks that Santana wasn't eating, so it was a small tower, even though Santana had snuck the breadstick jar from the adjacent table.

"So, I gotta say, between the fact that the doors to the bedrooms didn't lock, the fact that Puck of all people was allowed to sleep on a pile of pillows on the wet bar, and process of elimination said that our mixed-sex directors slept on the couch bed in the common area together, I'd have to say our chaperones weren't that attentive. In fact…"

: : :

Kurt wandered through the girls' room. One of the beds had been given an elaborate four-poster job—using blankets and shower rods—that obscured the occupants on the mattress. The other bed held Rachel, Quinn, and Tina, tangled up with each other. Mercedes was sleeping on the couch. Kurt blew into Rachel's ear; he had a field trip for her.

An hour later, Kurt and Rachel stood in front of the iconic jewelry store. "God, I love this city," Rachel noted, sipping her green tea.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Kurt asked, "I'm thinking of coming here, after I graduate."

"Me, too. I mean, I say that constantly, but… I don't think I'll be able to _not_ come here. It's like coming home."

"Maybe Santana was right and we should have been friends all along."

"I'd be delighted," Rachel admitted sheepishly, "if you think you can handle me."

"If _you_ think you can't handle _me_."

They giggled together.

"What about Finn?"

"What about him?" Rachel replied, bowing her head as if she knew what Kurt was about to ask.

"I know you're serious about him. New York is pretty far away from Ohio. You plan on bringing him with you?"

"You make it sound like a he's a large, cumbersome piece of furniture I'm not sure I'll be able to fit in my apartment."

"That's actually a pretty accurate description of my question. I love Finn; he's my brother; and I know he's too big for Lima. But this is New York. You, me, we'd fill this place up to the seams. It's asking a lot of him, though."

"There's more inside of Finn than anyone realizes, not the least of all him." Rachel sighed. "I know you and Blaine haven't been dating as long as Finn and I…"

"Blaine's going places. He's been here before. And LA. And a lot of other big cities. I know it's only been a couple of months, but…"

"You just know," Rachel remarked empathetically.

Kurt responded resolutely, "I'm going to ask him to come with me after we graduate."

"Maybe we'll all share an apartment."

"We probably could. I have an aunt who lives here. And my grandmum has a condo she timeshares in the Upper East Side."

"It's frightening to think we're not dreaming this."

They were split apart when a man walked out of the double doors of the Tiffany's & Co. When they noticed that man was Will, they raced off in opposite directions, hiding in the spaces beside the pillars. After he was a safe distance away, absorbed with his purchase, Kurt and Rachel rejoined.

"That was close. I think there would have been Hell to pay for being out of our rooms without a chaperone."

: : :

Santana counted the fifth person to walk by and given the table a glare. She couldn't be sure if it was the fact that they were discussing their not-safe-for-children conversations using not-safe-for-children words in not-that-lowered voices, or whether it was the fact that she and Brittany were sitting so closely, their hands visibly linked.

Sandy was glaring at them, too, but Santana knew of about a thousand visits to Breadstix where she'd done something to anger the waitress, so it could be that. Politely as she was able, she ordered her food.

: : :

With "Light Up the World" practiced, the group figured they were free to roam the city for a while.

Obviously, they were supposed to stay in their room. But Will had an "errand" to run. Everyone knew where he was going, including Holly, who promised more champagne after their win if they promised not to tell Mr. Schue that she followed him each day.

Most would think the New Yorkers would find clusters of teenagers running around singing songs in public would seem strange, but at that point they were used to it, as choirs had been flowing in all week.

Brittany was running in circles around a field in Central Park, and Santana was collapsing onto a bench with exhaustion. She looked over to the left and she noticed a middle-aged couple walking hand-in-hand. "I guess we weren't the only ones who were inspired by the beauty of New York," she said to herself, Brittany too absorped in her impromptu nature dance to overhear. The couple was two men, she noticed. Empowered, she got up from her seat and managed to grab Brittany's hand, who paused only long enough to grin at the connection before dragging an already flushed Santana into her reverie.

Not too far away, Quinn found Puck trying to spit on cars from a bridge.

"Puck, you got a second?"

Puck apparently hit a school bus, because he verbally awarded himself three-hundred points. "Sure, Quinnie, what can I do you for?"

"We haven't talked much this year," she said seriously.

Puck's demeanor changed instantly. "I was hoping you just had a favor to ask, like scoring you some weed."

"Like you know drug dealers in New York?"

"I could find one. I'm resourceful… as you well know."

"You're gonna get yourself stabbed."

"Says the girl with the bulky purse on her arm and expensive camera around her neck."

"Do you always have to be so impossible?" she growled.

"What do you want from me, Quinn?"

"I want to be able to talk to you without you deflecting with your pervy comments. I want the Puck I fe—" She cut herself short. "I want us to go back to the way we were."

"Quinn, what's happening here? The way we were _when_? Back when you walked into McKinley as a new student hell-bent on running the whole damn place as a freshman? When we were friends of friends because you only talked to other pretty girls and quarterbacks? When we were sneaking around Finn's back and you tried to ignore your feelings for me?"

"When even if my entire world was crashing down around me, one touch of your hand on my back could give me a moment of solace."

Puck was quiet for a minute. "I wasn't kidding about getting mugged, girl. Don't go anywhere alone. If I catch you alone…"

"You'll what?" Quinn baited.

"I'll stand beside you." And then he did stand beside her, mere inches from her.

Their eyes locked.

They smiled.

"Mama," a child babbled a few yards away, and Quinn and Puck instinctively turned toward the sound of the baby.

: : :

Brittany sneezed when she leaned too closely as she seasoned her salad with pepper. Frowning, she poked at it repeatedly with her fork.

"That becomes important to the story later," Santana explained. She began to cut up the salad in front of her, chopping the lettuce into bite-sized pieces, and cursing at the errant cherry tomatoes that stayed still about as well as the spryer of Brittany's two cats. "Anyway, we're just going to jump ahead to that evening." Once she was satisfied with her work, she meticulously drizzled salad dressing on it.

"So, we weren't going to let New York go to waste…" After tossing it furiously, she switched salads in front of her and Brittany, who grinned, quietly commenting, "Just like Wendy's."

: : :

Santana was pounding on the bathroom door. "C'mon, Quinn, my date's in an hour and I don't wants my hot date to know what color panties I'm gonna be wearing."

In the same room, Brittany was sitting on the bed, hands pearched over her eyes. "Are they… invisible?"

Santana mouthed "dammit" to herself, and told her girlfriend, "Stop guessing. And don't you dare start rummaging through my suitcase," she remarked with absolute severity, "I mean it, Honey. _Off-limits._" She waited until Brittany nodded before turning back to the bathroom door. "Serious, Q, this date isn't for you."

When Quinn walked out of the bathroom, Santana's jaw dropped. The blonde was wearing a tight, short, black dress, and her makeup was conspicuously heavy. But that wasn't the most recognizable thing.

"And I repeat, this date is not for you. When did you get a haircut?"

"Do you like it?" Quinn asked, blasé.

"It's very Joan Jett. I may jump you." Brittany's head jerked toward Santana, her palms still blocking her vision, and she whined audibly. "Kidding," Santana called out. Quinn walked past Santana, who remarked, "But, Quinn, I'm serious; I can see your coin slot. What the hell?"

"Look, I wanted to look nice, okay? We couldn't exactly bring our whole wardrobe and this is my 'nice' outfit."

"Can I stop hide-and-seeking? I want to see Sexy Quinn," Brittany noted, trying to follow the sound of the girls' voices.

"Fine, just don't call her that anymore."

"Wow," Brittany purred, her eyes wide as she took in the sight, "But don't you have the blue dress, too?"

"You weren't kidding about digging through suitcases, were you?" Quinn asked Santana, "Look, guys, I was feeling unattractive, okay?"

"And you decided, since you'll be serenading your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend today, you want to make sure he knows what he's missing, right?"

"No, it's not that at all," Quinn shot back, and apparently the conversation was done, as she stormed out of the room.

Santana and Brittany's eyes met. Santana glared expectantly at her girlfriend, who again recovered her eyes.

: : :

For the third time, Santana pushed away her pesto ravioli and wiped the red sauce off Brittany's nose, who had been too eagerly chowing down on her spaghetti and meatballs.

Santana indicated the meal with her fork. "I don't want to be a braggart. Or rather no one else wants me to be a braggart, so why don't you tell them about that night?"

"You don't have a job," Brittany prefaced before delving into the tale.

: : :

Brittany and Santana were escorted through the fancy restaurant by Puck, past a table where Finn and Rachel were sitting, surrounded by the remaining female members of New Directions. Their journey took them through the kitchen onto a portico.

There she found the rest of the male glee club members standing around a single table with a simple tablecloth. On the table was a jar where a handful of breadsticks—likely not her favorite variety, but they were steamy and had the typical sheen of heavy buttering—and a candle stuck in a wine jug.

When the not-at-all-Italian-looking chef walked out with a white ceramic dish—a big one, about the circumference of a basketball—piled high with spaghetti and red sauce, and three tangerine-sized meatballs.

Brittany looked straight at Artie. "For us? San, it's just like—"

"_Lady and the Tramp_, I know." She mouthed "Thank you" to Artie, who shrugged amicably in response.

Sam handed Puck an accordion—which he made the motions of playing, though the instruments (thankfully?) made no sound—and they began to sing.

_Oh, this is the night, it's a beautiful night  
And we call it _bella notte_  
Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes  
On this lovely _bella notte

Inside, Finn and Rachel were enjoying a beautiful dinner as well. Around them the girls sang:

_When you wish upon a star  
Makes no difference who you are  
Anything your heart desires  
Will come to you_

Brittany was rolling the meatball from one side of the bowl to the other with her nose. She misjudged it and the meatball when rolling across the table, and off the edge, and… into the palm of Santana's outstretched hand. She smiled knowingly and Brittany beamed.

Santana licked the sauce off the palm of her hand and then leaned forward, mouth open, tongue dancing, toward Brittany, who mirrored her actions. Inches away, as the music awkwardly faded away, she paused, pulled back a few inches, licked her thumb and wiped the sauce of Brittany's nose. She briefly sang to her girlfriend.

_On top of spaghetti_

_All covered with cheese_

_I lost my poor meatball_

_When somebody sneezed_

_It rolled off the table,  
And on to the floor,  
And then my poor meatball,  
Rolled out of the door._

Brittany turned to the boys and remarked. "You were singing before you were distracted?"

The boys hurriedly resumed the song.

_Side by side with your loved one,  
You'll find enchantment here.  
The night will weave its magic spell,  
When the one you love is near!_

Finn held Rachel up after she mimed fainting as she met Patty Lupone.

"You're the second kid to do that to me today," the woman remarked.

Rachel babbled for several minutes about her dreams to work on Broadway.

"Good luck to you," the legend stated, "Don't give up. I didn't make my Broadway debut until I was…"

"Twenty-four," Rachel remarked, "In second grade, we were asked to give a living biography of one of our heroes. I had already researched some of your esteemed colleagues in previous years, so to challenge myself, I dressed up and portrayed you. I got a B because the presentation was supposed to be three minutes and mine was twenty-six."

"Well, I'm honored. Now I believe this lovely group of ladies was serenading you and your handsome date."

_If your heart is in your dream  
No request is too extreme  
When you wish upon a star  
As dreamers do_

Brittany and Santana were sharing a piece of cheesecake covered in raspberries. Brittany, seeing the glimmer in Santana's eyes carefully picked at the dessert, allowing Santana to consume most of the fruit and crust.

"We've kind of carb-overloaded tonight," Santana remarked, coyly adding, "how on earth are we going to burn off all these calories?"

"There's a gym at the hotel," Brittany suggested, "I'll let you make fun of the contestants on the fat people show."

Santana giggled. "Sweetie, c'mon, I've got two hours to make you too tired to sing 'My Cup' again."

_Oh this is the night, and the heavens are right!  
On this lovely _bella notte_!_

: : :

"I know, I know," Santana said, cutting Daniel off from the comment he was about to make. "But I wanted to mark the climax of this story."

"No pun intended," Faith filled in.

Santana grinned at the girl, holding out a fist to Faith. "Way to go, Bible Betty." Faith took an inordinately long time to bump her fist.

"And as with any story high point, it means it all starts to go down from here."

: : :

"I've never seen you like this, Rach," Finn told his girlfriend.

"Well, I am out with my man in the most beautiful city in the world and just met one of the _legends_ of the Broadway stage."

Finn's smile faded. "This city really does make you more alive."

"It _does_. I was talking to Kurt and we decided we're coming up here after graduation. I already ordered application packets from Julliard and Tisch. I even had them rush-delivered so that they'd be there when we arrived back in Lima."

"That's great for you."

"I ordered packets for you, too, Finn," Rachel said a little softer.

"I… really?"

"Finn, I want you to come with me."

"But… but this city's huge. It took me two years just to find my way around Lima. My mom says it's because she bought me a Game Boy when I was ten and I never looked outside the window when she drove me to soccer practice and stuff. I'd have to get a GPS thingamajig just to _walk_ around New York. Do they even make those?"

"Yes," Rachel replied, "You don't like New York?"

"I think it's gorgeous and bustling and just beaming with life. It reminds me of you."

"But you don't think it's like you."

"Rachel, you know I'd go to Siberia for you," he explained, adding, "You don't have any interest in Alaska, though, right?"

"No and… never mind. Finn, it doesn't matter where we are. If I'm with you, I'm happy."

Finn stared down at his empty plate. "But if you're in New York with me, you're happier. If you're in New York, period, you're happier."

_Like a bolt out of the blue  
Fate steps in and sees you through  
When you wish upon a star  
Your dreams come true_

Rachel had no answer to that.

: : :

"So what happened next?" Faith asked, enthralled.

Santana sighed with resignation. "According to Mercedes, Berry ran off about five minutes later, and Fabray went after her. Half an hour later, they were _both_ in t he wind. And so was Puckerman. It turns out, after Britts and I left to… 'go back to the hotel…'" Santana finger-quoted, "…he said he had to return the accordion he'd rented. We didn't hear from him after that. Finally, about 2:00 AM…"

: : :

The entire glee club was crammed into the common room of their hotel suite, the entire glee club minus Puck, Quinn, and Rachel, that was. Finn was pacing in the middle of the room, calling Rachel's cell phone for the thirtieth time. Will was in the corner with Holly, getting chewed out by the voice of Sue Sylvester over the phone.

Finally, he walked up to the students. "Listen, guys, I know you're just trying to protect your friends, but this is no time to circle the wagons. New York City is not the safest place to be at night. It's not like Lima where people leave their doors unlocked at night."

"That's not true, Mr. Schue," Santana noted, "I've had to sneak into plenty of bedrooms."

Will pulled his co-director aside. "This also is no time to be a cool teacher. Did they tell you where they were going?"

Holly frowned. "I take my responsibilities seriously. I've been trying to keep track of all twelve of these misfits for almost the entire trip while you're off making plans—and eyes—at April Rhodes."

"It's just paperwork. And don't forget it's me who does bed check every night while you go down to the hotel bar."

"…to wait for you, sugar," she hissed, "These kids have been conspiring against me. I know they're just distracting me in shifts so the couples can make out, and I've let that slide because at least they're in the hotel rooms. And it'd be a little hypocritical given the 'bed check' that happens after bed check."

A knock on the door interrupted the argument, and Will was only too happy to excuse himself from the situation to answer it. There he found the three MIA students standing in the door, their heads bowed in shame. Behind them stood Shelby Corcoran. It was too many surprising things for Will to comment on at first.

The three errant kids shuffled in quickly with muted apologies. Rachel took shelter next to her boyfriend, hoping his size would distract from her. Quinn squeezed between the impossibly small space between Brittany and Santana, hoping that she'd get lost in the familiar unit. Puck lazed easily again the bed, becoming the most visible one in the room.

Shelby took one look at Will and remarked, "I take it from that more-than-usually-harried expression that these kids didn't in fact tell you where I was going, and that the person I talked to on the phone is probably that blond boy I've never met."

Being eyed, Sam waved at the adults. "I didn't realize what that was about."

"Sorry, Will," Shelby apologized before turning to Holly, "Hello, I don't believe we've met."

"Holly Holliday, New Directions Co-Director."

"So is this the replacement?" Will's brow furrowed. "C'mon, I live here. I saw your name on that April Rhodes show."

The adults moved the conversation into the hall.

"You know April?"

"I do now. When I first moved up here, I heard about that all-white production of _The Wiz_ she was doing. I tried out for Addaperle and got laughed out of the theater."

"I'm only doing this job for the summer," Will explained, "If it flops, I'm back in Lima ready to prepare for next year's Nationals. If it doesn't, that's why I have an understudy."

"Understudy?" Holly repeated, miffed.

"Understudy at the _play_."

"That makes a lot more sense."

Shelby noted, "Takes a lot of fortitude to make that kind of decision. If I had made it big my first time here, I wouldn't have stayed. So, are your kids in trouble?"

"We're all in trouble. I already called Rachel, Quinn, and Puck's parents about their disappearance. I have to send them home first thing tomorrow morning."

Shelby tilted her head. "I don't notice a room full of kids, Will. You still playing with a deck of twelve, zero alternates?"

"It's hard recruiting at McKinley. We'll have to disqualify ourselves from Nationals. It's a shame; I think we could have won it."

"Seriously? Got you're just overflowing with optimism, aren't ya? I inherited an award-winning team and it took me five years to get them to Nationals and another three to get them their first national win. Hell, if Goolsby weren't more insane than I was, there's no way they would have won last year with the director change two months before the competition."

"Our kids are good."

"You've no argument from me. You have a knack for finding diamonds in the rough."

"I guess maybe we should have packed a few extra pebbles?" Holly prompted.

"Hmm," Shelby thought, "are McKinley's rules still pretty poorly worded?"

"Uh…"

"Because technically, I'm a teacher. I do voice lessons at a private arts school up here. I'm on the recruiting board; you could easily claim that they were chaperoned the entire time, doing an impromptu college visit."

"We'll have to make up some fibs about why we didn't know about it," Holly conspired with her.

"Please," Shelby smirked, pulling out her iPhone, "these things are a communication breakdown godsend. Just say they called you but the messages got lost and their phones died. Lord knows all three of those kids probably abuse the MP3 capabilities, ergo batteries, of their phones."

"I don't feel good about this," Will remarked.

"Gee, I feel spectacular," Holly disagreed, "Will, we're competing Friday with or without you. Now, c'mon, these kids need to get to bed because tomorrow is crunch time. Brittany and Mike outdid themselves on these steps, and Finn's much too large to hide if we can't get him to at least 50 percent accuracy."

: : :

"So, any more excitement?" Daniel asked, looking exhausted.

"Frankly, no, just dancing."

"Dancing is exciting," Brittany stated with conviction.

"Yeah, but I'm still going to skip over the laborious hours of practice we filled the next day with. The only real 'distractions', if you can call them that, were the marriage proposals."

: : :

"He what?" Mercedes cried.

Tina remarked dryly, "He mentioned that his mother had spoken to her cousins in Hong Kong and that they had reserved a highly-coveted banquet hall for October 2012. Mike wants to get married _next year_."

In the guys' room, Mike was lying face down on the bed. "I'm an idiot," he mumbled into the duvet.

"Hell yeah you are," Puck remarked, You really want to get hitched five months after graduation? A lot can happen in five months."

"Tell me about it," Santana noted.

Sam wondered aloud, "What are you doing here? This is the guys' room."

"Well, Kurt's better at the sympathy shit and I'm better at the tough love."

Mike pushed himself up. "Look, Tina's the one for me, okay? I figured, if we got it all figured out, why not just make it official?"

In the girls' room, Tina sobbed, "And it's not like he thought it was a big deal. It was like he was saying, 'Oh, I should replace my iPod, and probably take a film class in college, and, oh yeah, get married. I can't believe how he thinks that I'm just going to settle down and be his little housewife. He learns it from his mother."

"Despite what my mom thinks," Mike told the 'guys', "this isn't going to change our lives. We're both still going to college and Tina can do whatever she wants, and I'll support her. That's why I wanted to get married, so that we'd both have a partner in life."

Puck wasn't budging. "Still, man, _seventeen_?"

Mike looked down the line. "Sam, didn't you give Quinn a promise ring after dating her for like a month? And Puckerman, you offered to set up house after high school with her and Beth, right? Artie, tell me you didn't feel the same way about Tina last year that I do right now."

"I might have possibly been looking at small townhouse properties outside of Cincinnati," admitted.

"Finn, Tina told me what you said to Rachel, just last night, that you'd follow her anywhere?" Finn just nodded. "Santana, Brittany and I are tight, as you know. Dare I retell the day she literally leapt from wall to wall at the Lima Dance Studio because you had the 'we're going to college together' speech with her? All you guys have been there."

"Talk to her," Finn suggested.

"Talk to him," Mercedes insisted.

"I mean, would you guy want to get married out of college?" Tina asked.

Rachel, as always, answered first. "I'm not getting married until I'm twenty-five, but if Finn were to propose at an appropriate time, say prom as we're crowned king and queen." Quinn glared at her. "_Or_ maybe at graduation, a moment after we throw our caps in the air, and my fathers are nearby to take the perfect picture. Granted, we may have to pose that one. I'm sure I can get the entire senior class to run through that a half dozen times or so. Or perhaps I'm on the plane to New York and he rushes through to the gate to propose on bended knee…"

"Do any of these scenarios not involve teen movie clichés?" Mercedes asked.

"What about you, Mercedes?" Tina challenged.

"Well, Tina, to be honest, I haven't met _him_. Raj is a nice guy, but I don't know if he's the one. On the other hand, I _want_ to settle down, and soon. I figure it's more likely to happen in _college_, but if it's the right guy…"

This didn't help Tina any. She turned her head to Quinn.

"What Mercedes said?" the blonde offered reluctantly.

"I like weddings. And proposals. And jewelry. And love. And kisses," Brittany muttered and then shrugged.

"Blaine would do a singing proposal," Kurt said aloud, off in his old little world.

Back in the boys' room, Santana tempted fate. "Well, hopefully, this day can't get any worse."

Just then, Holly stormed into the room, furious, and was immediately crowded by the feminine half of the club.

In the boys' room, the other half of the club had crowded around Will, holding a ring box.

"Santana, are you supposed to prevent this kind of shit?" Puck wondered.

"I blame Finn."

"Why me?"

"You _just_ admitted that your Keebler elf snuggle toy and testosterone-impaired stepbrother told you that they saw him walking out of Tiffany's yesterday. Connect the dots, dummy."

"Maybe we can focus on _fixing_ things?" Sam suggested.

"League of Badassery, assemble," Santana groaned with a gather-round gesture. She took a seat in front of her teacher. "Mr. Schue, what on earth possessed you to propose to your wily girlfriend of three months?"

Will, tear-streaked, replied, "It was the next step. I've been slowly training her to be a committed, monogamous traditional woman."

Santana stared at her teacher for a long spell. "Yeah, someone else is going to have to take this. I'll work on Holliday. I'll send Hummel."

: : :

"So, anyway, that's what we were doing twenty-four hours before the big competition."

: : :

Santana locked her directors in the boys' room. For the sixteen hours, the member relentlessly worked on their performance, led by interim director Rachel. The group was reluctant about the promotion until Santana gave them a good tongue-lashing.

They practiced steps until their feet were audibly hurting, covered only by the sound of their stomachs growling. Finn was elected to retrieve dinner, having nearly broken every foot in the room, including his own; he returned after ten minutes with enough Burger King bags to fill a grocery bag, which he subsequently dropped why Brittany bowled him over to claim her BK Kids Meal.

Just after midnight, the exhausted group dragged their bodies into the girls' room. The three ex-cheerleaders squeezed onto the couch. Mike and Artie slept on the rollaway bed. Finn, Rachel, Kurt, and Tina sardined themselves onto one bed; and Mercedes sandwiched herself between Puck and Sam on the other.

The next morning, no less than five alarms—three of them set by Rachel's—woke up the group and they drearily dragged themselves out of bed, miraculously managed to get ready in forty-five minutes, and entered the common room just in time to find their directors with several trays of Starbucks coffee and an announcement that the shuttle to the Lincoln Center would pick them up in half an hour.

: : :

"I don't have a solo," Finn told his stepbrother, backstage.

"_Way_ too late to be complaining to me, Finn."

"I'm not complaining. Well, I would be, except, I mean, why aren't I? Shouldn't I be the type of guy who does that? The male lead of the choir that's gonna win Nationals should sing. That's the kind of guy who's going to New York after graduation."

"Rachel told you about that?"

"Yeah. She said you and Blaine are going, too."

"_I'm_ going. And if Blaine turns out to be as serious as I think he could be, then of course I'm taking him with me. She'll take you. She wants to."

"She should take the guy who sings the solo."

"Unfortunately for her, the guy who sings solo wants nothing she can offer. I'm the guy she has help her sneak into Gershwin theater. You're the guy she wants to come home to."

"Well, that's where she'd find me if I moved up here: home."

Before Kurt could answer, Santana called out, "Finn, just the man I was looking for. So I was napping in the dressing room. Actually, that's not important. Thing is… don't kiss Rachel on stage."

"What?"

"Just don't do it. I'll tear both your lips off. Just don't test me, okay?"

"Okay, Santana, I had no plans to."

Santana pointed her finger at his nose. "_Exactly_ the problem."

: : :

"I'm confused," Faith remarked.

"It's irrelevant. Inside joke." Even Brittany seemed perplexed; neither Faith nor Daniel noticed.

"How were the other choirs?" Daniel asked to get the conversation moving again.

"Really good. But we were all too stressed to pay attention, and too proud to actually _like_ them."

: : :

The members of New Directions were staring stonily at the all-girls choir in short white dresses, with the major exception of Brittany and Santana, who were passionately dancing in their seats to the song.

_No, I gotta keep it real now  
'Cuz on a one-to-ten_

_She's a certified twenty (Twenty)  
And that just ain't me!_

Santana's hand grazed Brittany's thigh. "You as turned on as me?"

Brittany nodded vigorously. "Yeah."

"I'd drag you to the bathroom if I didn't know that our tiny singer wasn't going to have a heart-to-heart with Vocal Adrenaline's tiny singer soon. It'd totally kill the mood."

Brittany missed half of what she was saying. "Oh, yeah, Artie's girlfriend is here."

"Yeah, well, I already threatened him. They can have their sweet geeky kisses back in Ohio. Now, shush, this is my favorite part."

_Watch out!  
Don't stop the party! _

_Girly, listen, don't stop the party! (Watch yourself!) _

_To the window, to the wall!  
Show me what you're waitin' for!_

: : :

Kurt and Rachel started the show with a duet: "For Good" from _Wicked_.

New Directions followed that up with Santana's song, "Light Up the World", which she naturally took the first solo on, letting Brittany and Artie sing the refrain. For the second verse, it was Mercedes turn to shine, backed up by Puck and Tina.

: : :

"How'd it go?" asked Faith, her behind not even touching the plastic seat.

"Out of the fifty choirs, twelve others sang 'For Good' as a duet."

"It's a popular song," Brittany explained, "From this Broadway show about Sabrina having a crush on Phoebe Halliwell at Hogwarts."

"…and twenty-eight sang original songs," Santana finished.

"What?" Faith exclaimed.

"Jesse St. James betrayed us. It turns out that 'work-study' program he was on wasn't real. He failed out of school. He'd called all of the other schools that had won their Regionals and inform them of our ace in the hole. I'd've gone all Lima Heights on him, but we couldn't track him down after the competition."

"How bad was it?"

: : :

"Eleventh place," Will informed them.

There was a long silence.

"That means we're a shoo-in for next year," Rachel offered.

All at once, Santana found herself tackled to the ground by Brittany, Sam, Quinn, and Puck. "_¿Qué hacen, locos? ¡Suelténme! Su rodilla está en mi vejiga, concha!_"

: : :

"I gotta pee," Brittany remarked.

"I'll go with you," Faith offered, slipping out of the booth, and following her to the restroom.

At the sinks, Brittany remarked, "You and Daniel are super cute together."

"I'm breaking up with him."

"Why? I thought you loved him."

"I do, but there's times when it doesn't feel like boyfriend-girlfriend love. He's the best friend a girl could ever ask for, but there's still no spark."

"Is there someone else?" Brittany asked, her voice too controlled.

Faith looked at her reflection in the mirror, their eyes meeting in the glass. "No."

Brittany lathered her hands for the second time. "I can tell that you're lying. It's my superpower."

"Superpower? You really do have one foot out the door of reality, don't you?"

"I don't understand."

"You probably can't tell, because of my frumpy clothes, but I've dropped ten pounds since I started attending McKinley. I've been spending a lot of time at the dance studio. Those advanced jazz classes are a real workout."

Brittany was slow to reply. "I know. How'd you get into them? They don't let beginners in."

"I was the captain of my junior high dance squad back in Salt Lake. I've been dancing my whole life."

"You're not getting Santana," Brittany suddenly pronounced.

"Of course I'm not," Faith replied sarcastically, "I mean, I'm completely straight. And the daughter of proudly homophobic parents. And a sincere chastity advocate. Santana obviously doesn't see me as a prospective girlfriend."

"But you want her to," Brittany surmised.

"I'll settle for her not thinking you're her one and only. I know it's just a dumb crush but it hurts."

Brittany frowned at that, partially sympathetic and partially something else.

: : :

"You what?" Daniel spat.

"Well, given the fact proposals hadn't gone well so far, I threw the darn thing back in my suitcase. New York would have been more romantic, but I'll wait until the time is right. She's the one."

"Want to know something?" He pulled a ring box out of his pocket. "I got Faith a promise ring, too. I'm gonna ask her tonight."

"Good for you. But we are shutting Brittany down the _moment_ the words 'double wedding' come out of her mouth."

"So, when are you going to…"

"Shh," Santana hissed, eyeing the returning Faith and Brittany. If she didn't know any better, she'd think they didn't like each other by the way they were walking several feet apart.

Too airily, Faith asked, "So, you didn't win. What happened after?"

: : :

Will stood before the group. "Listen, guys, I have an announcement to make. This summer, I'll be performing with April Rhodes in her play: _Short Storey_."

"You're leaving us?" Rachel cried, "Mr. Schue, we can't do this without you."

"I'm not staying, at least not forever. Even if the play continues into the school year, you'll have Ms. Holliday. I'll be back before Sectionals."

"But if the play bombs, which it probably will, you'll come back and Ms. Holliday will be booted?"

Will locked eyes with Holly. "Workplace romances are risky. We both knew that."

"So, you're splitzo for good?" Puck wondered.

Holly answered, "We need some time apart. No point in being too optimistic."

"You're all set to run this thing?" Santana asked the blond director.

"I was willing to do it last semester after Mr. Schue got fired. I have plenty of ideas for assignments and competitions next year, and I've been left with plenty more to supplement that."

: : :

"This is quite a tale."

"Yeah, and it isn't over." She pointed to the other end of the restaurant, where Puck and Quinn were seated across from one another, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with each other, both tense and silent.

"Are you going to fix everything?" Brittany asked.

Santana exhaled with tiredness. "I'm gonna let the dust settle first. Maybe some things will fix themselves. I've actually got about twenty texts from everybody telling me about their lives. It's almost enough to make me question why I made friends with everybody."

: : :

Finn and Kurt were sitting on the couch, watching _The Goonies_ and sipping warm milk.

"So, I asked Blaine if he'd come to me with New York."

"What'd he say?"

"He was a little freaked out. I didn't intend to do it yet but it slipped out. We're probably not at a place where we can ask things like that."

"You guys okay?"

"Yeah, but he's going on vacation with his folks for a week. We'll reconnect after that. I think we're gonna be fine. I think I might love him."

Finn smiled at that, clapping his stepbrother on the shoulder. "Gonna tell him?"

"It can wait until he gets back." He sipped. "You and Rachel still pulling a _Casablanca_?"

"Yeah, we're taking a break." Finn suddenly found his nearly-empty class of milk very interesting.

"I didn't think you'd give up so easily."

Finn replied with conviction, "I'm not. I realized that I have a year to become the man who deserves—no, scratch that—the man _who is going_ with her to New York. I'm gonna find my calling this year, Kurt."

"I can get behind that project. It sounds like the kind of thing that might inspire a makeover."

"You'll be the first to know, bro." Finn replied, putting his arm over Kurt's shoulder.

: : :

Tina was lying on her bed while on her dresser, her mobile phone played the first thirty seconds of "Getting to Know You" from _The King and I_. The screen listed the name: "My Mike".

Tina continued to ignore the phone, tears in her eyes, while she clutched a magazine to her chest. Once the phone finally stopped ring, she threw the magazine into the nearest wall and started to sob. The front cover displayed an Asian woman in a wedding dress.

: : :

As they left the restaurant, Santana pulled Brittany into her car. When Brittany questioned why she didn't start the engine, Santana began, "Brittany, I need to be honest with you. I've done something… something kind of unbelievable… something for you… for _us_. I hope you'll understand why I did it."

: : :

In the hotel suite, Rachel exchanged tense words with Finn. Quinn stared into the middle space, spouting off random details about her life to Brittany and Santana, who sat on either side of her, Brittany stroking her hair and Santana rubbing her back. Mike, Artie, and Sam crowded around Puck, who tried to look as unemotional as possible as he recalled the events of the evening.

Finally, the three adults walked back into the room. Will and Holly immediately got on their phones and started making phone calls. A quick bargain was made and Will ended up calling Principal Sylvester back while Holly took the job of calling the Berrys.

Shelby casually strolled through the roll, carefully avoiding her biological daughter. When she approached the three ex-cheerios on the couch, Quinn excused herself and sought refuge with Mercedes and Tina in the kitchenette.

"Santana, can we chat for a second?"

Surprised that the woman knew her, Santana nodded, patting Brittany on the hand before following Shelby as she made her way out the hotel door, leaving it open.

"Ms. Corcoran?"

"So, how were things the second time around?" the older woman remarked as if it were a greeting.

"I don't understand."

Shelby chuckled. "Don't play dumb with me, Princess. I've been doing this a lot longer than you. I assume you're a friend of a certain Dr. Cross?"

Santana's jaw dropped. "H-how do you…?"

"Know him? Oh, Sugar, I met him five lifetimes ago. You see, once upon a time, I decided that having some gay couple's baby wasn't worth pursuing my dream in New York. And that's how I ended up in some dead-end Cincinnati suburb with a husband of ten years who had the habit of drinking too much followed by hitting me too much." She casually shrugged. "So I decided to try this silly experiment with this aging, drug-addled, formerly licensed shrink. And nine months later—or nineteen year earlier?—I had a reason to live. A baby girl." She looked towards the still-ajar door, where though the girl couldn't be seen, her voice could clearly be heard.

"Rachel," Santana concluded, her mind still reeling from the larger revelation.

"'Christine', actually," she replied, adding the aside, "after the protagonist of _The Phantom of the Opera_. You see the first time around, I decided to make off with the kid myself. Got arrested in Kentucky for kidnapping, and because of an outcry in the state, they didn't even give her back to the couple that had legal custody of her, and I ended up getting raped in a women's penitentiary for eight years." There was not even a hint of a waver in her voice as this fact. "Anyway, it took me a few more years and some more felonies to find out she was with a couple of rednecks who planned to let her take over the family antique store instead of going to college, so I tracked down Dr. Cross again, and I've been working ever since to make Rachel's dreams come true."

Santana's jaw was still slack. "How long…?" she just barely made out.

"This is attempt number five, and I've accumulated…" she did some quick mental math, "…over sixty years of history rewriting. Granted, I obviously don't experience all that. I still black out through the useless stuff." Her back straightened at the odd look on Santana's face. "Don't you?"

"Not in months."

Shelby's eyebrows shot skyward. "That's got to be a headache. How long did you go back?"

"Five months."

Shelby made a sound that was halfway between a chuckle and a scoff. "Five months? I guess your brain still is teenaged. What life-ruining event did you go through that you knew was so bad after five months?"

Santana's head turned back to the hotel room. "Brittany…"

"You went back less than half a year to get _laid_?"

"I went back so that I wouldn't lose my chance to be with her."

Shelby bowed her head, shaking from side to side. "Oh, Santana, you don't lose your chance. The last two times before this one, you come out senior year."

"Wait, why would even hear about that?"

"Jesse," she replied plainly, "He's always been my little spy. The last couple of times news of your newfound lesbianism was kind of an afterthought, but this time a whole bunch of stuff changed, all of it about you. That when I started to suspect you were playing around with the history books, too."

"Hold it, so when I went back… did I branch off one of your timelines?"

"Obviously," Shelby replied, "Did you think this was a dream or something? Reality is all about perception. I don't understand the quantum tomfoolery that's going on here, but I do know this world is far too complex to be taking place in my head."

"Okay, so this is obviously a lot to process, but can we focus on how Fire Dancer is your little lackey?"

"Jesse reports back to me. He's knows what I'm doing, and he approves. He falls in love with her every time, so obviously he wants her to succeed."

"Then why did he betray us?"

"New Directions won Nationals last time, and blows it the next year—Jesse sabotaged everyone else last time—and Rachel loses her shot at a prestigious arts college. Boy can't not overdo something to save his life."

"So you're doing all this just to make sure your little snowflake gets her fifteen minutes of fame atop an apple crate?"

"I direct her life as far as I can before I get shot back. I've got two more years left."

"Shot back? You mean you don't keep going?"

It was Shelby's turn to drop her jaw. "You mean your five months is up?"

"I'm just as surprised as you. The deadline came and went and I'm still here. I mean, gladly…"

Shelby began to pace. "Interesting. So you succeeded. You're dating Brittany from the looks of it."

Santana shrugged. "Hell, yeah. I got my girl. Santana Lopez don't lose anything she don't want to."

"Kudos. I guess I probably should have picked an easier task."

"I kind of feel selfish. I can't believe you sacrificed all that time for her."

"Well, I wasn't exactly altruistic the first few rounds. Once I even made it big, but at the expense of her dreams. I jumped back at the height of my career to put Rachel in my place, and I don't regret it for a second. Would you do it for Brittany?"

Santana smiled and lowered her head. "To make her happy? In a heartbeat. I'm lucky that what makes her happy—me—makes me happy, too. I guess if it was Artie who was her soul mate… I'd make it happen." Her voice betrayed the lack of sincerity of the statement.

Graciously, Shelby commented, "I have a sneaking suspicion that she belongs to the person willing to rewrite time for her. Does she know?"

"No."

"Secrets don't make for good relationships," she advised.

"Aren't you keeping the secret?"

"Yes. And I'm a 36-year-old single woman who has never had a relationship that lasted longer than a month. My biological daughter is estranged from me and my adopted daughter spends more time in day care than with me."

"I'll consider it, telling her. Honesty's kind of a damn Greek word to me."

"You're preaching to the choir, sister."

There was a lull in the conversation. "Any advice?" Santana asked.

"A warning maybe. I don't know what happens when you die. I haven't yet." She knocked on the door frame. "But there's a chance you're gonna pop back to where you started. Having the brain of a 90-year-old senile woman in the body of a sixteen-year-old girl's gotta be some type of special hell."

"So, what do I do now?"

"This is real life; make the most of it. Don't let a moment pass you by."

: : :

Brittany took is surprisingly well, and Santana wondered why she was ever nervous.

"Wow, that's so cool. And a little scary. What happens next?"

"I don't know. I haven't had a dream in a week. We'll just have to face those challenges as they come. C'mon, there's no way God's throwing us any more fastballs this year."

: : :

"You're disbanding glee?" Holly screamed.

"I'm doing no such thing. On the other hand, as the head and sole member of the school board, I'm making drastic cuts to the extracurricular arts budget. Our standardized test scores are in the toilet and I need to repurpose those funds for academic courses. I expect _you'll_ be the one disbanding glee since you don't have any money."

"What happened to that 'survival of the fittest' trash you were talking? Is this because we didn't place? The arts are important! And, yes, I sound like a cliché, but I've always used creative methods to educate kids. This isn't China, you know!"

"You need to settle down, Ms. Holliday."

Just then, Emma ran into the principal's office. "You're disbanding glee?"

Sue rolled her eyes. "Okay, tell Schuester I need a list of all his lovers because I'm tired of you banshees running into my office." Sue calmly explained, "Extracurriculars are just that: _extra_-curricular. They can raise their own funds. We need that money for core classes."

"I saw the budget, Sue. It's more than enough money."

"There's no such thing as _too much money_, Ms. Holliday. Your health classes and any other classes you choose to pick up will be well-funded."

"Wait, what classes am I picking up?"

Sue shrugged and sat back in her chair. "I don't know. Not my problem. Figgins is principal now. You'll have to talk to him about any classes you want to start." She watched Holly carefully and expectantly.

"Choir," Emma finally spoke.

Holly turned her head; Sue did not. "What?"

Emma could hardly speak fast enough to get her thoughts out. "Sandy Ryerson, before he was fired, taught a choir course seventh period. It was cut after his dismissal because no one volunteered to teach it, especially since it meant his budget would be redistributed. Certain people are just obsessed with budgets." She sneered at Sue, who sneered back, clearly wishing she hadn't already resigned her post.

"But Will picked it up."

"Will restarted the glee club, an extracurricular, afterschool activity," Emma explained needlessly, "He didn't pick up Sandy's choir course, because he taught AP Spanish IV that period."

"So?"

"So, since there's a bunch of money floating around for new classes, if someone were to set up a choir course for next semester, and a certain twelve students left a spot open on their schedules for it, McKinley's New Directions could remain intact."

Sue leaned forward. "And, I, being on the school board, would have no power to affect the club in any way, because it wouldn't be a club; it would be a _class_, which is under the jurisdiction of the new principal, who especially if he's the bleeding heart type, would allow it."

"So that's it?" Holly wondered.

"No," Emma admitted, "It'd be just like your health class. You'd have to submit a full semester's curricular plan by July 15."

"I'll do it."

"Really?" Sue asked, "Because I've got a resignation letter here that says otherwise."

Emma looked to Holly. "What?"

Holly grabbed the letter and tore it in half. "Plans change. I'm not leaving the man I love without the one thing that makes his day bright. New Directions is still on."

"But you were going to take the _other_ thing that makes his day bright?" Emma challenged.

"A lot of things make his day bright," Holly told Emma, eyeing her deeply.

"I'm making someone else's day bright," she replied half-heartedly, fiddling with her engagement ring.

"So, we're all set," Sue announced, with an evil smile.

"I can't even stand you, Sue," Emma growled. "Holly, one more caveat: the minimum. A class has to have fifteen members to keep."

"So it comes back to that damn recruitment issue."

"You've got until September 20th to pick up three new kids. I have faith in you."

: : :

Santana and Brittany, like most nights, were cradled in each others in bed at the Pierces' home. Unlike most nights, Santana was in a deep, dreamless sleep. Three furry lumps dotted the foot of the bed. Half a dozen notepads littered the floor, filled with lists of "Things 2 Fix".

On Brittany's nightstand sat an analog alarm clock, which ticked away the seconds. _Tic tic tic tic…_

* * *

A/N: I watched _Country Strong_. It had Gwyneth Paltrow in it and she sang. I forgot what my point was. I also watched _Contagion_, where she died in the first ten minutes. (Spoiler alert, except the trailers told you that.) It's not like I haven't seen her in other things, but I can't stop thinking of her as Holly Holliday in everything I watch.

So, this marks the end of Volume II. Originally, it was going to include some summer stories, but I'm pushing those to Volume III. After this, I'm going to take a brief hiatus from fanfiction, or this story at least, to finish my _Glee_ novel. Once that gets past the writing stage, I'll return to this, spit out the summer stories, and start to work on Senior Year. It will take inspiration from Season 3, but only minimally. I've already got the overarching plots that I want.

I've set up a lot of it in this chapter, though you won't know it because so damn much of it is eerily similar to what's happening in Season 3 right now. I say 'eerily' because there are several plot points in Volume III that closely parallel Season 3 despite me writing brainstorming them months ago. I'm just as psychic as Santana.


End file.
